Chapter Text
Outside Thieves Rest, snow fluttered to the ground, occasionally a snowflake would land on the window, quickly melting due to the warmth radiating from inside the café.
Inside, the newest edition to the roster was working hard— no, sorry… —hardly working. Cocoagraft was a character alright, just not exactly a very helpful one. The robot, which was currently tasked with making hot chocolates for patrons, was dozing off between orders. Whether or not a robot was even capable of being tired, Slingshot wasn't sure, but either way, it wasn't very productive.
“Cocoa!” The blue horned inphernal called over his shoulder from the kitchen. “If you're not going to do your job, at least go check out the back for me! I think that raccoon is back…” He muttered the last part, but Cocoa heard it perfectly clear, and knew what it meant.
Something was digging through the trash, and Cocoa had to get rid of it. The machine wasn't too fond of work, but was a lot less fond of lectures, so it reluctantly peeled itself from the counter it was leaning on and began marching to the back door.
The robot stepped out into the cold air, though it didn't exactly “feel” the way most creatures did, its thermometer reacted quickly to the sudden change, dropping rapidly. It didn't care though, as long as it could get rid of whatever was rummaging through the dumpster.
So it balled its fingers into a fist and banged on the side of the bin, expecting to hear the hiss of some wild animal. Instead, it heard a voice. The voice spoke in an unfamiliar language, though judging by the tone of the voice, Cocoa could deduce it was cursing. How rude.
“Filius canis, quid fit?!” The voice spoke, muffled by the lid of the bin. Cocoagraft decided to do the polite thing and lift up the lid, peaking inside. Inside it saw… an angel.
Not in a metaphorical or poetic sense, no. A literal angel. It was covered in chains, draped in a black robe, and wore a helmet with three glowing red eyes along the front and wings sticking out either side. Wrapped around it was a pair of black feathered wings, though they appeared injured.
Cocoagraft suddenly felt a little guilty for assuming it was a raccoon, hopefully this didn't mean it was going to hell. The robot stood on its toes to get a better look into the bin, watching the angel look up at it with annoyance.
“APOLOGIES FOR HITTING THE BIN. I THOUGHT YOU WERE A RACCOON.” It explained, though the angel didn't seem any less agitated.
“Tu una ex illis machinis es, nonne?” They hissed, their feathers puffing out. Though its aggressive posture faltered upon seeing Cocoas confusion. It tilted its head to one side and rumbled with curiosity. “THAT LANGUAGE IS NOT IN MY DATABASE, DO YOU KNOW ENGLISH?”
The angel slowly nodded, sitting up straighter in the bottom of the bin and making unyielding eye contact. “Ah, yes. I do speak it.” They said in an unfamiliar accent, narrowing its eyes. “You are one of those machines, correct?”
So this angel had encountered Biografts before. Cocoa knew of its kind, and knew for certain they were much less hospitable than it. Hopefully the angel didn't have a bad first impression. It seemed to be scanning the area outside the bin, as if looking for a quick escape if Cocoa became aggressive. The paved pathway behind the café didn't span further than a few meters before transitioning into grass, though with the weather, it was all covered in an inch or two of snow.
Upon realising it’d been staring for an awkwardly long time, Cocoagraft spoke. “AFFIRMATIVE, I AM A BIOGRAFT. MODEL: COCOA#001.” It began, reaching a hand forward to help the angel from the dumpster. “UNLIKE MY OTHER MODELS, I AM DESIGNED TO ASSIST AT THE THIEVES REST CAFÉ, AND DO NOT POSE A THREAT.”
The angel hummed an acknowledgment of Cocoa's statement and grabbed the edge of the dumpster, pulling itself to its feet and ruffling its wings. “I am still warm from my descent, you would be burnt.” They said, waving away the robot's hand.
Cocoa was about to object, but noticed the metal of the dumpster where the angel had been was slightly scorched, and decided against it. “SO, YOU FELL FROM THE SKY… INTO OUR BINS?” It eventually decided to ask.
The angel nodded, snow melting around its feet as it stood, adjusting its torn robes. The chains draped over itself clinked and jingled with each moment, and it brought Cocoas attention to what was around its neck. A black metal collar of sorts with runes carved into it that dimly glowed. It also noticed similar cuffs around its wrists, with runes also inscribed in them.
Cocoa didn't understand much outside of making drinks and pastries, but it knew that armour typically had a way to be taken off. This, however, did not. That meant it wasn't armour, and was also not an accessory. The runes surely had to mean something, as this angel didn't seem like the type to wear something without meaning.
“WHAT IS THIS?” The robot pointed to it, letting a huff of steam from its vents. The angel was taken aback by the sudden question, narrowing its eyes at the hand Cocoa had pointed with. “...None of your concern.” They muttered after a long pause.
“WELL THEN,” Cocoa turned around, taking a few steps then grabbing the doorknob, “WOULD YOU LIKE TO COME INSIDE?” It asked, opening the back door. This invitation seemed to only confuse the angel more.
After a long pause, it stepped forward. Where the snow had crunched under Cocoa’s steps, it sizzled and melted under the angels. It looked around with skepticism once again before nodding. “I accept this offer.”
Cocoa ignored the odd mannerisms and opened the door, stepping inside and gesturing for the angel to follow it. Of course, it was sure it had no authority over the angel, but hoped that it would listen out of the kindness of its heart, instead of wandering into Slingshot’s office or something and trashing the place.
Luckily, the angel followed it, stepping lightly to avoid burning the floor, chains clinking together with each step. “SLINGSHOT— MY BOSS— MIGHT BE APPREHENSIVE TOWARDS ME LETTING A PATRON IN THROUGH THE BACK DOOR.” It broke the silence. “BUT DO NOT WORRY, I WILL EXPLAIN TO HIM WHAT HAPPENED.”
The angel seemed reluctant to trust the robot's reassurance , but they’d come this far already, so they couldn't turn and run now, lest they make a fool of themselves.
When Cocoa reached the counter, Slingshot turned to face the robot, smiling. “Ah, did you find the raccoon? I–”
His smile dropped when he saw the angel, eyes darting between them and Cocoa. The inphernal grit his teeth and gestured to the angel. “Cocoagraft, what is this?” He said with forced patience.
There was a long silence, Cocoa turning its head to face the angel, whose feathers were slightly puffed up defensively, clearly nervous. After a moment, it turned back to Slingshot, seeming calm. “A RACCOON.”
Slingshot's eye twitched. “Cocoa that is not a fucking raccoon–” “YES IT IS.” “No, it isn't—” “IT’S A SPECIAL RACCOON.” “It really isn't.”
While the two bickered, the angel scanned the room. The three were behind the counter of a café with a light blue interior. It was cozy, with a jukebox against a wall playing some sort of Lo-Fi music. The most interesting part, though, was the cat trees.
Between tables there were large wooden cat trees, a few of which rose up to the ceiling, acting as support beams. Several well groomed cats lay about the building, and photos of these cats hung on the walls.
The café was mostly empty, save for a man in the corner writing on a laptop, and a small group of people by a window, oblivious to the angel's presence.
The angel turned back into the other conversation when Cocoa placed a hand in front of their face. “SLINGSHOT I SWEAR TO YOU THAT THIS IS THE FACE OF A RACCOON.” It insisted stubbornly.
The angel was sure that Slingshot's unwavering certainty would lead to frustration, but instead the barista was… laughing?
“Cocoa, they have wings!” He stepped forward and placed a hand on the machine's shoulder, leaning forward and giggling. “You kidnapped a cosplayer!"
“NO, I-” “Sir,” Slingshot turned to the angel, smiling, “I am so sorry about Cocoa, they're still new, and don't really understand much, I can get you a free hot chocolate for compensation if you’d like?”
The angel blinked, perplexed. “What… is cos-play?” They queried, turning their gaze to Cocoagraft, who huffed again and shook its head.
“SLINGSHOT. THIS IS A REAL ANGEL, THEY FELL FROM THE SKY INTO OUR BINS AND-” “Yes, yes, Cocoa, but I’m talking to this 'angel’ friend of yours right now.” Slingshot brushed off the robot, turning back to the angel. “Sorry, it doesn't understand what pretending is yet.”
The angel was more confused than ever before, nothing made any sense. Did Slingshot think that they were pretending to be an angel, like dressing up? Preposterous, that was certainly some form of blasphemy.
“No, no, thou are mistaken.” The angel had to inform Slingshot of his mistake, and assure him that they were no sinner. “I am no pretender and no trickster, I am truly one of The Sword’s angels.” They spoke, watching Slingshot’s expression shift from sympathetic to perplexed.
Noticing this, the angel continued to explain. “You see, I was cast out from the heavens by Firebrand Himself, who warned me that if I was to return to the skies, I would be turned to ash in an instant.” They turned to Cocoagraft. “Your robot found me after I’d landed in your bins, and invited me into your establishment.”
Cocoagraft turned its head away, looking almost ashamed to have inconvenienced Slingshot, whose expression was unreadable.
“Who are you?” The barista demanded, folding his arms over his front and narrowing his eyes. The angel placed a hand to their chest and bowed their head. “I am Seraphlaser, seraphim and previous soldier of The Swords.”
Slingshot nodded, turning around as a bell rang and the front door swung open. A loud voice called through the cafe for Sling, and he sighed, looking back at Cocoa and waving a hand at them. “Make Seraphlaser a hot chocolate and show them to your room, I have a feeling they'll be here a while whether I like it or not.”