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Sweet Dreams, Maggot
Samael smiled indulgently. “Calm yourself, little mortal. And Michael- was Joan of Arc not nineteen when she led the French Army to victory? You've chosen women before whose talents and wisdom belie their age. Give me the same freedom- I see something in this mortal. She's spunky, and that's what I like.”
“Those women were born leaders. They were fated to be great,” Michael said, eying me. “Of what use could she be to you?”
“Fated!” Samael scoffed. “There is no destiny for mortals- they choose their own fates. It's easy for us to forget that when we're immortal. And this girl, why, she comes from the great land of America.” He motioned grandly. “There are few I am willing to work with. Scanty candidates that match my style. She has the freedom to be whatever she desires.”
“If you insist, Samael,” Michae
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