Gabriel bears a sparkling pitcher. “More ambrosia, Father?”
“Sure! You, Luce?”
“I could use a refill.”
“I’m glad you dropped by.”
“I rather thought it expected, Jove. We must check on the Game’s progress.”
“Game? Hhrruumpphhh! I rather think of this as War!”
“I thought we were finished with that messy business.” Satan flinches, uncomfortably. “I’m really sorry about that whole ‘taking one third of your army thing’.”
“It proved only fair. For winning souls, you needed emissaries – though I question my wisdom in it. Seems, you’re ahead!”
“Being banished to earth offered me an unexpected tactical advantage.”
“You’re welcome.”
