“It helps that we are not copulating” he replied, deadpan, which was truthful if not exactly getting to the real meat of the question.
I don't know. Just three little words. Not especially difficult words at that, really. And yet the idea of uncertainty was still uncomfortable; angels were not supposed to experience that. Granted, they were not omnipotent, but the hopelessness of not knowing was for those who did not have purpose, and the purposes of Heaven were supposed to be clear even when they weren't explicit – they had been, once. He was fairly certain part of that clarity had been that demons and angels could not co-exist peaceably, and yet here they were; how it was she could talk to him, and vise versa, with civil tongues and without either party bursting into flames or suffering some similar divine retribution was as much a mystery to him.
Draining the rest of his whiskey bought him a few seconds to compose a response.