[ Clueless. That’s exactly what she seems to be but who could blame her, guardian angels were things that existed solely in books and movies, right? Despite their mentioning being frequent in the Bible. Sunday was a relatively social person at school and she found it strange that she had never come across him before. ]
“On a Saturday? Well, your priorities are certainly more in order than mine. Nice to meet you, anyway.”
[ She’ll offer him a small smile before realising she’s forgotten her sketchbook again but she doesn’t seem to care, the swing sets were always lonely around teatime. —— She’ll go to step around him awkwardly, realising he’s still blocking her path. ]
“Foster?”
[ Okay, well, he doesn’t keep track of dates. He’s been alive at least five years too long, not to mention his time in purgatory – it becomes a minor formality after a while. He supposes he should, though. Now that he’s finally exposed himself to his charge. ]
“Yeah. I mean, I have stuff to do tomorrow, so. You, too.”
[ He’s absolutely terrible at this. He’ll be lucky if God bails him out. ]
“Hm?”
[ He didn’t mean to hear that. Or turn around. But he does, with an expression that resonates with bitter confusion. ]
