But then there were those like Rehabilitation who were far more comfortable with the idea of there being a Heaven above them. Days like today when she had to sit with her people in their hospital rooms, watching and knowing that they would be dead within the hour. A twenty-five year old heroin addict who had been in and out of her centers across the country before finally dying in New York. She'd called his parents personally in Kansas to let them know what had happened to their son and they were on their way to collect the body of a son they hadn't seen in years.
Yes, Rehab really did like to imagine there was a Heaven. It was a needed comfort.
She didn't ever carry a cellphone (what could one expect from a person whose apartment phone still featured a rottary wheel?), but if she had she would have whipped it out and called the police the moment she smelled the telltale smell of marijuana. As it was she glanced around for a member of the NYPD until she spotted the source of the smell. Rehabilitation sighed and with one hand fingered the pearls around her neck as she thought for a moment on her course of action.
She didn't say anything at first, instead stepping carefully through the grass muddy from the day before until she was standing over the younger goddess. She looked down with pursed lips and a raised eyebrow. "Hello there."