"Our modes of operating may not be," he concedes. "Or our intellectual capacities. But don't be too quick to draw conclusions about angels. This isn't even my true body. I can't walk on the surface of my own planet without a vessel to keep me from burning the eyes out of every living thing I run into. And I'm a baby compared to Raphael."

He tastes the greens again, wondering idly if parmesan would help the flavor. "Not that I'm trying to impress you or anything. I suppose to any species other than humans, I'm just another alien."

At the mention of Donna, he breaks into a grin. "Does she cook? I had no idea. She's always feeding me tea and cookies, though. I should have realized."