Maybe she's into role-playing, or maybe it's his cleric's collar, but either way it works for him. A handy trick, but one that only works with young angels. Once their wings are broken, they recognize the demons in disguise. A few more words, a nod, and she's in his car with a shy smile and breasts that make him hungry. But he can't show it.
Control is critical for angel guardians.
He wants her wings to flutter, not soar. She'll be soft and warm, sweeter than the others. From Nebraska, she tells him. Just arrived this morning. Not yet familiar with this city, this street, or the shadowed figures who huddle along it.