"Bad news." he mutters to himself, raggedly gasping and making a concerted effort to stay afloat, beating his wings with strained, slack strokes to go higher into the air.<br/><br/><em>Time for some real power</em>.  "Liar!" he calls out as the girl tries to rationalize with the new....demon, yes, very certainly, his divine knack for judgement told him.  His axe returns to his hand, and he lazily drifts high into the air, wings spread out, proud and vibrant, and a new confidence comes into his voice.<br/><br/>"Take her down<em>now</em>!" he reaches into his mind, into his<em>heart</em>to pluck his strings.  The voice of angels, of sheer reason and infallible trustworthiness rings out from him.  And, of course, beneath that, was the gift of his fathers, the devil's own guile and dark promise.  "She said the same to me, and as we walked in the night, she<em>struck</em>."<br/><br/>He repeats, influence at it's most exquisite.  "Take her out<em>now</em>."  The word beats in his skull, and his angelic judgment lays more of the demon bare to him.  "You want to kill her.  Take her life.<em>Take her soul</em>." he demands, sounding of reason and helpful advice, while appealing to his most prominent desires.