I held out my hand and showed Angel my palm, gesturing that I have swallowed my pride and somewhat begging him to hand me the other pair of cutleries. Yet even though it sounded as if I have been reduced to naught, there was no disgust, nor embedded reluctance as I did something out of the ordinary. Rather, this can only be viewed as merely different. And it was not all that bad.

I forgot to say hello to the sun today.

“...”

Angel froze in his place, the pupil of his eyes enlarging. At first, I thought that he was still intending to tease me and was unwilling to give the cutleries right away. However, his expression looked more as if he were taken aback by something. It was as if he had just seen something surprising.

But soon, he shook his head gently and regained his expressionless persona back. He then finally stretched out his arms and handed me the things that I begged for. And as he did so, he suddenly said,

“Are you really Gwen?”

“From that dumb question, at least it seems that you are still you.”

Is this guy trying to pick a fight this early in the morning?

“You’re back!”

I guess he is.

Suddenly, the angel jolted his head back again, similar as to how he acted surprise just before. Unexpectedly, he averted his gaze away from me, fleeing right after he met it. Did I have a scary expression on my face?

“Sorry."

Angel then apologized, his eyes still away from his conversation target. He then let out a sigh and laid back, relying on the chair for support. As most of his figure sunk below the table, he then muttered,

“I just thought that you could use that look more.”

Use that look? Was he referring to my appearance? Do I look any different today?

“Care to explain?”

Out of simple assumptions, “look” could probably be interpreted as “expression”. Yet even though I can understand that much, I still did not understand what he meant.

“You’ll figure it out.”

Angel waved his hand, reluctant to elaborate on the issue.

“Back with this, huh?”

“Eat already.”

Out of what I picture as an attempt to change the topic, Angel pointed his knife towards my plate. And without saying anything else, he too concentrated on his, attacking the plate with rigorous speed. Swift, yet accurate, he dismantled the rest of his pancake and gulped them down in seconds.

In response, I shook my head, arching my eyebrows downsloping in pity saying, “So that’s how much you want to leave this table, huh?”

“Eat already!”

And as he seemed to grasp that, Angel shouted as some scrambled eggs splattered from his mouth.

With a chuckle, I held the cutleries that Angel has given me and positioned both of my hands above the plate. I then surrendered to my hunger and charged the plate without any strategy but to eat the most attractive thing first. With a piece of pancake stuck unto my fork, I took my first bite. It seems that my little argument with Angel had made the pancake lose its temperature. However, even though its crust was cold, it was still a bit warm.

“How’s it?”

Angel managed to articulate even with his cheeks inflated by the sheer amount of unchewed food. What are you? A squirrel?

“Collecting food for winter?”

I replied while still chewing my own. But as it was not the answer Angel expected, he squinted and glared at me. And just to satisfy the agitated rodent, I then properly answered.

“It’s alright.”

After hearing my answer, Angel relaxed his chin and threw an awkward smile that seemed to make him look perverted. But more than anything, he only looked relief.

“You sure are uncute.”

Angel then scratched his already empty plate with his fork, realizing that he had finished his meal. He then dropped both of his cutleries and compared the two plates that were in front of him, seeing that mine was still considerably full. Seeing so, he pushed his plate just a flick away from him, making space to place both of his elbows on the table. With fingers that were tangled up in front of his face, he asked me with a lighthearted tone.

“Are you ready for today?”

“Ugh. That question makes you sound like an old man.”

Not that he was not one. In fact, seeing as how I am his 509th case, Angel’s age is probably at least in the triple digits.

“No! That’s not true! Being 598 years old is still considered young for my kind.”

Angel clenched the clothe around his chest, shying his gaze away as to repel my statement. Simultaneously, he brought up a finger to the corner of his eye as if he was wiping a tear. In conclusion, acting nothing like an adult.

I looked at my plate and bite off a piece of bacon from my fork. As I gulped it down, I found myself sighing at the same time.

“I don’t know.”

It was not a matter of “will”. There was no longer any argument against my conviction. Yet to do the things that are considered to be correct; to understand what exactly was, is merely thinking or wanting good enough? Even though this was a different morning than the others, the uncertainty persists.

“From all 509 of your cases... How many can be considered... a success?”

I still did not understand what I am feeling, nor what I should be feeling. And so, I ended up trying to find any justification by asking such a question. I did not understand the requirements to succeed. And perhaps, it is okay for me to fail.

“Why does it matter?”

Angel answered while chugging down milk that came straight from its packaging. Along with his act of ventriloquism, the arguably multi-talented being groaned in satisfaction.

“Is that the milk from the fridge? Don’t drink that from the carton.”

“Now you’re the one sounding like a hag.”

As his thirst was quenched, Angel placed down the milk carton on the table, crumpling it on the same time. He gripped the now empty container strongly, reducing its volume down to his fist. With similar strength, his eyes locked on to mine.

“You’ve never compared yourself with anyone. Why start now?”

And they exposed me bare, preying accurately on my insecurity.

“Sure. You’ve felt something like envy. That in itself is a form of self-comparison.”

Angel continued without holding anything back, enunciating every word without a trace of his usual jester-like self.

“But truly, you never did care about it.”

He centered his sight towards his locked fist, loosening his grip on the milk carton as he did so. And as his fingers spread apart, it revealed the now rippled surface of the carton.

“No matter what, you’d always bounce back.”

Yet leaving no opening for me to rest, Angel cornered me again as his stare returned to weigh my shoulders. And with a tightened chest, looking forward became difficult. I found myself staring towards the floor. Not because I felt hurt by Angel’s declarations, but because I was ashamed that I became blind of them.

But as I just began to realize so, Angel snapped his fingers and gathered my crumbling spirit back, ridding off the milk carton in the process as both of his hands were now empty.

“It’s fine, Gwen.”

His awkward smile made a triumphant return, arching oddly as if it was intended for evil instead of encouragement. But I always have thought of myself as someone who is quite perceptive.

“You are.”

To me, it was genuine.

“...”

But towards it, I was unable to reply with gratitude just because my empathy was flooded by embarrassment.

Damn it, Gwen. Just say “thanks” already.

“Th-”

“Oh! That milk wasn’t from your fridge by the way. I bought it myself, so don’t worry about it!”

Sigh.