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The celestial engineers rarely mingled with the sword-wielders, and vice versa. For the most part, angels kept to their own department. Singers harmonized together; soldiers sparred with each other; starmakers swapped blueprints with other starmakers. It was only practical. When everyone hung out with their own colleagues, it stood to reason, everyone was more productive.
Still, there was no rule against fraternizing with angels from other divisions; Aziraphael had checked. And he found himself increasingly looking forward to seeing the red-haired, dark-winged angel from Astral Engineering who’d taken to stopping by during their common breaks.
They’d first met in line in the cafeteria, exchanging gripes about the poor food selection. (All the best fruitmakers had been recently reassigned to the Eden Project, and their substitutes mostly consisted of a few mezzo sopranos from the back of the choir who hated their new job and just wanted to get it over with.) The commiseration hadn’t made the manna taste better… but it had certainly made the eating of it more enjoyable.
And the next time, and the time after that. Apparently, Aziraphael and the engineer had a similar shift schedule; they’d run into each other half a dozen times already.
Although he was beginning to suspect that it might not be such a coincidence just how often their paths crossed. Perhaps he wasn’t the only one always on the lookout for a familiar set of wings. It was a heartwarming thought, not that vital organs like hearts had been invented yet.
He wouldn’t get to see those black feathers today, Aziraphael already knew that. The starmaker had mentioned that he had a meeting with some other angels. Something to do with unions; Aziraphael wasn’t sure of the details, but it certainly sounded like a good thing. Heaven was all in favor of unity, after all.
He’d been invited to come along to the meeting, actually — “They’re really fun, Lucifer and the other guys, I think you’d like them!” — and had felt a twinge of regret at declining. But he had another platoon formation drill soon, and it wouldn’t have done to be late.
Ah, well. His main reason for going would have been to be with his friend, and there would be other chances for that.
His friend?
As he hurried alone from the cafeteria back to the training field, Aziraphael’s metaphorical heart swelled with pride at the sudden thought. Yes, it seemed true. The red-haired engineer with the starry black wings had become his friend. What a lovely realization.
Aziraphael got along perfectly well with most of his coworkers, but he’d never really befriended any of them beyond a working relationship. This was a new feeling, and a good one. It was nice, he decided, having a friend. Even in a different department.
He’d have to remember, next time they saw each other, to ask how that meeting with Lucifer and the others had gone. No doubt, Aziraphael’s friend would be more than happy to tell him all about it.