Missy was a painter. From what Snatcher could tell, it was somewhere between a hobby and a job. Most of the art was traded away for necessities like food, but she sometimes kept a painting to hang by the window.

  She was also a decent singer, but she did that much less often. From what Snatcher could tell about angelic society, music was highly prized. He’d once seen Lady receive a bottle of sunlight for an impromptu performance, and from the few times that Missy had taken him out with her, most of the images of angels depicted them in choirs. Lady had even trained Saffron to hum, although it was more as an amusing trick than anything serious. Even the sweetest human voices paled in comparison to those of the angels.

  The reason Missy didn’t sing more often, Snatcher had figured out, was that she was shy.

  She was happy staying at home, and the only person she regularly interacted with (aside from himself, whom he didn’t count) was Lady. If she could have her way, Snatcher was pretty sure she would stay at home every day, sleeping late and painting. For all the perfection the angels seemed to radiate, it was almost silly to think of one of them as being nervous about going out.

  Nevertheless, he was happy with the state of things. Most likely, he would have chafed under the ownership of a socialite like Lady, with her high standards and house full of pets. Besides, although Lady wasn’t cruel by any stretch of the word and it wasn’t as though Snatcher tried to make Missy’s life difficult by misbehaving, there was a fine line between acting out and wanting some measure of independence. Lady wanted him in sight whenever he interacted with Saffron, and didn’t always approve of the influence he had on her. She especially seemed to dislike the fact that he could speak, and often, the disapproving looks he received from her were enough to make him shut up his noisy little chatter. He had a feeling that if Lady had found him up instead of Missy, he’d have immediately been under a Behavioral Adjustment so strong that no thoughts of running free, or anything else, could cross his mind again. And it would ensure that he’d be happy with it.

  He smiled as Missy finished her painting and blew on it to make it dry. “So, what’s next?” he asked.

  What was next was socialization.

  Missy stood at the edge of the park, hovering awkwardly. Snatcher stood at the base of her dress, his face a total deadpan. In front of them, about a hundred domestic humans of all breeds laughed and played and chased one another. Their angelic owners stood in pairs or small groups, chatting happily. Huge as they were, their voices sounded like so much thunder, and it was almost uncomfortable to be so close.

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  Snatcher glanced up at Missy, who looked as though she was wishing she were the one with a carrier to hide in. “If we both don’t want to be here, we might as well go home,” he muttered. She responded by nudging him forward. He grumbled, suspecting that Lady had put her up to it with something like, You need to get out more often, or, You don’t want to be the one with the socially awkward human. It’s not good for him, or for you.

  He kept muttering under his breath until he nearly bumped into another human. The man turned, regarding Snatcher with a squished and inbred face. Snatcher took a step away. “Hi,” he said quietly. The man kept staring at him vaguely, and Snatcher started to redden. If Saffron had been in his position, she would already be playing with him or grooming him or doing something else that normal pets liked to do together. If they were still alive, his friends Kip and Jay would’ve had a field day with how ridiculous the situation was.

  The man, if one could properly call him that, made an inarticulate grunt. “Sorry,” Snatcher muttered, fleeing.

  He stopped jogging when he reached the edge of the park. The wall rose high above the trees, and there was nobody there except for two chatting angels. He darted out of their path, and they glanced at him with mild curiosity before returning to their conversation.

  It was much quieter by the wall. Snatcher sank down and looked around the park. Overhead, birds swooped and sang. One of the two angels swatted noncommittally at them, paying them no more mind than a couple of tiny, chirping insects.

  Someone called, “Hi!”

  Snatcher looked up quickly. A group of people had approached the wall and were staring at him. One of the men had flowers in his hair, and the woman next to him was holding a bundle of daisies she’d gathered. The one who had greeted him, a woman with hair so long she could’ve tripped on it, leaned in and blinked. “Hi!” she called again.

  “Hello?” replied Snatcher.

  “Hi!” said the woman again. “Hi, hi, hi, hello?” She danced around, parroting the word with glee. With the pet park being one of the only opportunities for socialization, she was clearly elated to get a chance to use it on another human, even if her deteriorated brain couldn’t grasp its meaning. She sniffed him, and growing bolder, reached out to touch his nose. “Hello? Hi! HI!”

  “Just leave me alone,” he spat, storming off. Somewhere behind him, Miss Daisy Bundle broke down crying, but he didn’t stop.

  He ran all the way back to Missy, who seemed like she was trying to disappear into the wall to avoid engaging in conversation with the angel who’d come up to her. When he tugged on the hem of her dress, she scooped him up immediately, looking immensely relieved. After the quickest flight home he’d ever recorded, Missy let him out of his carrier and sank against the wall, wings drooping. He stretched and looked up at her. “Let’s say we never do this again?” he suggested. She seemed to heartily agree.