There was a pause in Gabriel's answer, a bracing breath as his foot kicked a crack in the pavement and he gingerly felt around it before stepping over, just to make sure. "Two days ago. Saturday."

Two days was two days too long. If not for the memory of Balthazar sitting, slumped and drunk and hollow-eyed, in Gabriel's own caravan, the archangel might have taken the same route. Might have stayed there and not come out.

Apathy. He'd already done it. So he was opting for panicked, aimless action instead.