Azrael didn't spend a lot of time at home. At least not his physical form. But from time to time, the few staff members he had at his bar talked him into taking time for himself. It amused him that they told him to live a little. The gesture was sweet and so he took a day or two off from the bar every week, trusting his staff to keep things running. So far they had been reliable. He had only dealt with one slightly panicked phone call when the door to the cellar had jammed shut and the customers were getting angry. That had been an eventful day.
The Archangel had taken the day to try and decorate, painting one of the spare bedrooms. He wiped at his hands with a cloth, walking towards the door. Something felt strange. Was that Eli? Could have been. Maybe he was stopping by?
Without a second thought, he opened the door to see Yves. His hands stopped moving and he stared for a moment. Was someone playing a trick on him? He saw no illusion, could feel no change in the essence in the air, save that of a familiar soul. A familiar being. An old being. As old as time. Had he come to take exile him? Did he come with a message? No he would have sent someone else to do it. Azrael stared in silence, confused. Not many things shocked him into silence but this did. He had spoken to Eli before arriving in Preya. Yves on the other hand. It had been thousands of years, hadn't it?
Noticing the bags, he relaxed a little. "First Eli, now you. Did someone in Heaven throw another hissy fit? Come to ol' Azrael to get out of the line of fire?" he joked.
"No, but really... I can't believe it's you..." he added, his tone becoming more serious.