It was less complicated than he expected. An Angel was someone who chose to forsake the TEF and commit themselves to undoing the damage done, act as the messenger or weapon of Atlas and Argenta. It was all in vague terms, forsaking, committing. Wrench rolled the ideas around in his mind, but kept his mouth shut for a while longer.
Broil had started teaching him card games. That was taking up his attention these days.
"It's simple." Broil shuffled the cards as easy as blinking. "We each get two cards. I'll deal three to the middle all in a row. Each card has a meaning defined by the color and number. You have to see how many you can thread together in a sort of sentence based on a memory and tell me what it means. I'll do the same. We keep track of how many cards we use, and you can use them in any order, but you need to use one from your hand at least. Every card used gets you a point."
"This is so stupid." Wrench muttered. "Let's just play blackjack."
Broil didn't break his stride. "Every time one of us gets 20 points, we make a change to this space. You can stonewall me all you want, but I'm at least playing until I get a chair to sit on. Hell, a cushion." He laughed and fanned the cards out before snapping them together, dealing two face-down before the rest.
Wrench grimaced. The cards all had an overlay instead of the normal faces. No playing ignorant to get out of it. In his hand: Parent, Bad Dream. On the floor: Gun, Food, Game. He tapped his choices and stared.
"Got mine. You got yours?"
He flipped over Parent. "My mom used to make grilled cheeses for me and my siblings." The words felt stupid as they left his mouth, but he saw two points raise above his head and he shrugged.
"Good opening." Broil flipped over Limb and Death. "When I was in Glyph Company, another trooper got dismembered and eaten in front of me." His face was calm as four points went up over his. "Food, Game, Limb, Death. Your turn."
He stared at the numbers and watched the cards.
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