Last spark from the ashes

There's so much going unsaid, and this time she can almost feel it. And even though she's trying to reassure and praise Nike, the reedy sound of clenching fear that escapes the angel says it's not exactly working.

"It's only the truth, Nike." She needs to pull her thoughts straight. They keep throwing up conflicting impressions; fragments of thought about debts and demands and red sunlight through glass, the feel of tightness in her chest- irrelevant, unhelpful scraps scrunched up into one tangled ball of metal. Problems all running into each other.

She sits back a bit, letting go of Nike but propping her arms on her knees as she leans forward. Okay. One thought at a time. Drag out each piece and straighten it out.

"I guess it's... about time we talked about this. You did the right thing, trying to tell Lucifer what's what. The way I see it, it's like if the Traveler showed up in a human shape and told us to treat it like anyone else. I mean, I trust in the Traveler. Not everyone does, but I believe it'd try to treat us right. But it's not like us. It doesn't think like us or operate on our level. Doesn't follow our codes or laws. If I got in an argument with it, it could make the ground swallow me without even thinking. Wouldn't even be anyone in the galaxy who could hold it to account. And it ain't exactly fair to demand the weaker party pretend like that imbalance doesn't exist. Like it doesn't matter."