"Sleeping is a waste of time, dearest. There are books to be read, and they won't be seen reading themselves." He tipped a bottle back and took a drink without bothering with a glass. "You sleep and I'll read, and we'll both be content through the ages."
He was avoiding the topic of Peterson. He had no idea what the man might be. Not angel, not demon. He didn't appear to be a God, and Zira knew he was not the God. So what was he? What could he be, if not from the heavens or hell?