The Infernal Serpent

Balthazar presses his lips into a thin line. "I've always been the one being left behind, before."

He hesitates for a moment, then reaches out and puts his hands on Azazael's shoulders. "I'll try my best. I certainly don't want to die, or to hurt him. I suppose nothing is guaranteed forever, though. Not even us."

Straightening again, he smiles. "Probably the same one. Tartan bow tie, sort of sweet-tempered and easily flustered? I want to adopt him." It's hard to tell quite how he means that, but clearly he's fond of the other angel. "You know, it's honestly refreshing how many angels there are here. I can't really socialize back home. Gets a little bit lonely."

"Angels in my world cannot walk amongst mortals without a human vessel. I don't like to think of it as possessing him, but that's the nearest analogy. It's consensual; we have to ask for their permission."