Raphael continued spinning the sword in midair, not bothering to look up to greet him. The wound was a little bigger now, and the bright glow coming from within fascinated her. It was a bright, strident pain to cut through the constant burn that even now ate away at her being and strained her insides. Anything different was welcome.

There was no greeting, friendliness, or familiarity from her. If anything, Michael's arrival made her frown, shoulders shifting with displeasure at the too-bright presence now pressing at the walls around her. His presence was like a low-grade migraine to her. In fact, from her stalking this week of the other so-called angels in the city, they all were- except one. But he was the one that she knew she had to have caution around. The untrustworthy one, the bastard she distinctly remembered plunging his hand into her Grace and trying to rip it out, leaving behind this horrible, constant screaming agony inside her.

She had nothing to say to any of her alleged brothers.