[ For a moment, those curious violet eyes burn bright even on camera, flaring with that incandescent anger, his whole face (that human-like but never-actually-human vessel) twisting into anger. Anathema can't read auras through recordings, but for a moment, she can imagine what Gabriel's looks like, feels like. It sears.

After a moment's thought, she pops back up to her feet and starts walking through the crowd, peering more at the background behind the archangel than his actual face anymore. Catching a glimpse of a street sign in the corner of his screen, trying to orient by visible landmarks. She lives in Jeopardy, so she knows the area pretty well.

This might not be the greatest idea, considering his mood, but she's looking for his alleyway. ]

Potato, poh-tah-to. An apocalypse is an apocalypse.

But, hey—

[ Her voice gets louder, tries to draw Gabriel's attention back to her, cut through his spiral. She flashes a bright smile, or at least an attempt at one: ]

I think you just averted your first one. We're all still standing. Yes?