Archangel Michael: "We're commissioning Melody to tell some of the stories?"

Archangel Metatron: "Yes."

Archangel Michael: "Excellent. A dignified chronicler of celestial matters, history, wisdom and the mysteries of the ages."

Archangel Metatron: "Well... that's not exactly how it's gone."

Archangel Michael: "What happened?"

Archangel Metatron: "The stories escaped into cafés."

Archangel Michael: "The stories what?"

Archangel Metatron: "Readers are now discussing angels over tea and cake."

Archangel Michael: "I see."

Archangel Metatron: "And there appear to be bookmarks."

Archangel Michael: "Book... marks?"

Archangel Metatron: "And coasters."

Archangel Michael: "Coasters?"

Archangel Metatron: "And regional artisan chocolate."

Archangel Michael: "You've lost control of the project, haven't you?"

Archangel Metatron: "Completely."

Archangel Michael: "What's she doing now?"

Archangel Metatron: "Building communities through books, tea, coffee, cake, conversation, local producers, bookshops and kindness."

Archangel Michael: "That sounds suspiciously successful."

Archangel Metatron: "That's what worries me."

Archangel Michael: "Why?"

Archangel Metatron: "Because if she ever arrives on this side, she'll discover we don't have enough cafés."

Archangel Michael: "Surely that's manageable."

Archangel Metatron: "...she hasn't met Phineas."

Long silence.

Michael slowly rubs a hand down his face.

Archangel Michael: "Oh... no."

Archangel Metatron: "Quite."

Archangel Michael: "How bad?"

Archangel Metatron: "The last report mentioned seventeen experimental pastries, three unexpectedly blessed ovens, and a discussion group on community development that somehow spread across six realms."

Archangel Michael: "And Melody?"

Archangel Metatron: "She's encouraging him."

Archangel Michael: "..."

Archangel Metatron: "..."

Archangel Michael: "We should have given her a nice quiet hobby."

Archangel Metatron: "We did. It started with books."

Archangel Michael: "And then?"

Archangel Metatron: "Tea."

Archangel Michael: "Ah."

Archangel Metatron: "Then cake."

Archangel Michael: "That explains everything."

Archangel Metatron: "...she hasn't met Phineas."

Long pause.

Archangel Michael: "Is this the one who turned a simple recipe exchange into an inter-realm cultural initiative?"

Archangel Metatron: "That was his quieter phase."

Archangel Michael: "..."

Archangel Metatron: "..."

Archangel Michael: "And Melody is putting him in charge of the kitchen?"

Archangel Metatron: "Pastry Chef of Chaos."

Archangel Michael: "That's not a title." 

Archangel Metatron: "It is now."

Archangel Michael: shakes his head and grabs his cup of serenity tea, wishing he drank something stronger.