Bastian loved it when he identified an angel. They almost always seemed taken aback by his presence, as if they honestly expected to never run into any demons in this town. The angels might be currently winning the fight, but they still had another fifty years before that prophecy would be fulfilled. That was a lot of angels he could kill before then.
He inclined his head in greeting, the smug smile never once leaving his face. He had her face in his mind, now. The next time they met in the cornfields, he'd seek her out, bring her down.
"Evening," he greeted. He hadn't stopped walking, and he continued to close the distance between the two of them.