[ And on her end, Anathema actually laughs out loud, too, at his description of mankind and their usual reactions in the face of awe-inspiring blinding divinity. Which makes sense, but— ] To be honest, I'm not a big fan of running or bowing. Or groveling. None of that.

[ The mention of Sodom and Gomorrah is a jarring one and almost merits a disapproving frown from the woman, like a disappointed schoolmistress looking down her nose at him even if he's a literal archangel— but thankfully, Gabriel catches himself just in time. Anathema settles further against the bench, hums in the back of her throat with agreement. ]

No. It wasn't a positive thing at all. What would be a suitable instrument? ...Trumpets?