Coda
It bothers him somewhat that he never took the chance to see if he could fly, when he had wings.
But he doesn't think about that very often, after all, because in the months since Orlene took Office, he's been kept rather busy.
His own fault, he knows, for actually being helpful, instead of being a proper Incarnation of Evil and obstructing her at every turn.
He's also fairly sure that if he'd been proper about any of this, he never would have slipped into taking the office himself, for any length of time at all. But what's done is done, and chances are it will not be undone, at this point. Too much time has passed, and Time does not seem inclined to meddle with paradox these days.
'Mandias had been rather surly, lately, and Nefertiti sulky. Finally he decided to throw the two of them together and see if that would actually help things any. He'd been a bit surprised to see Ozymandias favoring a bruise not long after, but both of them had gotten quite a bit more quiet, and he wasn't about to meddle if it wasn't needed.
Meanwhile... meanwhile Orlene settled in, and helped him sort out the problem of falsely damned souls in Hell, and he lent her Ozymandias' expertise in certain matters of management, a fair enough trade.
It occurred to him, actually, that he was bored, and while he wasn't really sure just how long it's been since he's been back on Earth, it's been entirely too long, and he would very much like to go home.
So.
It's taken him long enough to make the arrangements for it, really, as he fully intends to be gone home for quite some time. 'Mandias and Beelzebub would be in charge, for the most part, with instructions to go to the edge of Chaos in Purgatory and call for JHVH if he was needed for anything. Also they were told that if it were anything less than an uprising of all the damned souls in Hell, or equivalent, they'd bloody well better work out the problem themselves.
They didn't ask for details. Wise of them, really.
The only problem, really, is that he's not been very good with dates for a great many years, and Chronos has changed office besides.
It shouldn't matter, really. He's certain he has the right week in June, and he'd better hope he does, because if he's wrong Chronos won't have the ability to change it, now.
His hand slips into his pocket, folding around a mostly-simple silver ring, as he makes his way into Chaos.