In the afternoon, Three was sitting in the parlour’s office, shovelling chocolate ice cream down his throat, blissfully aware that he would discard of his human body before his arteries could clog up. Scattered on the desk was more paperwork. It was hard to concentrate with all the festive music wafting in from the outside every time a customer opened the door. Occasionally, Three wondered why there was no festive music or decorations in the parlour itself, but then decided he didn’t want to care. Mostly, angels bought into the whole Christmas-hype, using it to evoke feelings of goodwill and such nonsense. Sixteen used to love all that hullabaloo, but obviously something had happened that made him turn his back on his old ways.
Angel had left to meet with the other man’s lawyer. It was th
