The diner has become something of a refuge, for Michael. When he grows tired of Solvunn, irritated with its old gods and their constant presence in the thoughts and words of locals, he retreats to this corner of his domain. Being nearer the Singularity does not necessarily put him further away from the gods—if there is anyone who knows for certain the nature of the relationship between the gods and the Singularity, it hasn't reached his ears—but at least his domain is free of offerings and shrines.

Apart from the church, that is. That doesn't count.

He won't get to keep thinking of his domain as a safe place if estranged relatives keep wandering in, though. First Lucifer, and now his son.

Michael rises from the same booth along the wall that he always occupies when he's here. For a moment, all he does is look taken aback. Throwing out his wings in threat wouldn't do much. This isn't truly a face to face meeting, it's merely the Horizon: no harm they might do to one another here will have any real meaning. Besides, they've met before, whether Jack remembers it or not. It hadn't gone so bad. The boy is not his father.

"Jack," he ventures, tone unavoidably guarded but not hostile. "So even a nephilim is subject to the whims of the factions and their summoning ritual."