Oh, thank goodness. Gabriel's here, and he's looking a bit ridiculous, but at least he doesn't look intimidated. Greta curls her arms around herself, digging her fingertips into the rich fabric of her gown, and edges as much behind the angel as she can without letting the cloaked figure out of her sight.

"I don't know who it is," she explains, wishing her voice would quaver a bit less. "They've just been following me, with--with that." She nods at the scythe, which scares her rather more than the cloak does. It doesn't look much like a prop.