Crowley sat there quietly enjoying his sweet roll and listening to her story. As it turned out it was the sort of story that fit this place. Her home sounded like Heaven which to him... made it sound more like Hell. It was no good when things were too perfect. Life became boring fast!

And then she asked what it was like where he was from. Did he tell her about Heaven and the endless hours of celestial harmonies he had been forced to listen to, or Hell and the deep pits of sulfur he had been tossed into, or the place he really felt more at home?

"It's Soho, in London. The whole city is a good deal more built up than this. Fewer trees, more fashion. Entertainment capital of the whole city. The night life there, gohl... They have the best bars, the best food, the best stage shows of anywhere in the entire country! It's nothing like this place at all. There not a thing about it that is perfect."

But it was home.

He looked to his companion with the odd fashion sense.

"You never said what your name was?"