Green River was quaint. That was the perfect word for it. Quaint. Dated and small and insufferable. Paul held his tongue as they drove through the main road, passing by all the small town charm so inherent to rural Americana. He despised it immediately but kept such feelings to himself. His mother taught him enough manners to never disparage the less fortunate.<br/><br/>Their first stop was the funeral home. It wasnt a well liked place, but Paul's issues with it weren't the typical reasons. He was more disgusted by the fake silk flowers and the knock off landscape portraits printed on cheap vinyl than he was by the type of business they conducted. The Ancient Egyptians had the appropriate gravitas when it came to funeral rites. The dead deserved better than verdant green carpet and faded wallpaper. Paul was very careful not to touch anything.<br/><br/>Paul remained silent but close as Gabriel spoke with the funeral director. There was steel in his angel's spine, ice in his gentle voice. He was so exquisitely poised. Gabriel was considered the angel of truth, a messenger, but at this moment he should have been Azrael, the angel of death come to collect the soul he was due.<br/><br/>He was beautiful, but Paul kept that to himself as well. The situation was too heavy to indulge in such carnal desire, but Paul will have something special planned for Gabriel once all of this was over.<br/><br/>He followed, silent as a specter, two steps behind his angel.