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City of Seven Stars
Samael smiled ruefully, looking at the brown liquid inside his cup. He gave it to me. “It's ginger- try it. I find it particularly soothing.”
I did. Then promptly spat it back out.
He sighed disapprovingly. “Maggot, maggot, what shall I do with you?” He snatched the cup from me. “But in answer to your question: Metatron forced me to adopt this habit long ago. He said a comforting routine would help quell my 'anger issues.' I had a- falling out, shall we say, once long ago, and various beings tried to institute methods that would help control my impulses. Several of which were unpleasant, some of which succeeded, and I suffer for to this day. Raphael's insistence on a smooth jazz hour was particularly excruciating. I loathe that genre,” he said bitingly. “It drove me mad, and failed utterly.”
I gawked. “Tha
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