Zariel is leaning against the back of his couch, head bowed and hands clasped together. A bit on the tired side, too. Cephas seems to take form from the ambient light in the room, gathering it into a form that one might recognize as the Archangel. He's in his preferred form today, with the bright wings shining behind him, and the Egyptian outline around his left eye. "Well," he muses. "Just a little irregular, but - the Law is the Law." "I don't have any objections to that," Zariel replies, "Any specific others? And how many is 'several'?"