"We may, we may not. We won't know until then." There's a steadiness to it that Raphael doesn't actually feel, something he'd perfected in his time running Heaven. It's not that different from his actually sincere tone - it would take a practiced ear to hear the hollow ring to it, the lack of angelic weight. "You can still fly, can you not?"

If so...how 'late' could it be?

He's silent for a moment, considering. He hasn't said that (yet?), and he's not sure he wants to know what prompted it, given what he's walked into here. "I managed not to set Gabriel on fire when we were young," though he had been sorely tempted many times, "I suppose that set my tolerance level rather high."

He reached over, wrapping his hand around Balthazar's bicep. Yes it was a possessive grip, he didn't entirely mean for it to not be, but it's not aggressive either.