As the bells of the Sainte-Marie-Majeure cathedral rang at eight o'clock, Staan paid for his taxi and left it for the cold night air. In an old building made of beige stones, the restaurant where Abigail had arranged to meet him opened up to a splendid view of the seashore. During his first days in Marseille, Staan had witnessed the beginning of the construction: moved a few kilometers away, the industrial port that had previously obstructed the view had now transformed into a luxurious tourist esplanade. The restaurant's large glass windows now opened onto the turquoise waters of the Mediterranean, filling the air with the scent of sea spray, much to the delight of the customers, and the proprietor who had suddenly seen his clientele and revenue soar.

Every day, the place was crowded, and today was no exception: through the windows, the tables all seemed occupied. All that remained was to hope that the young woman had managed to make a reservation, thought Staan as he approached the entrance.

Suddenly, a gaze pierced through him. Its intensity and hatred froze him in place, so much so that he easily traced its origin: from the top of the nearby religious edifice, an angel was watching him; the dense snow drowned its wings in the surrounding whiteness, but like beacons, its golden eyes sparkled in the night. Defiant, Staan held the gaze for a moment before entering the restaurant.

In the maze of tables, he discovered Abigail already seated, her auburn hair easily recognizable in the crowd. Thanking a waiter who approached him, Staan joined the young woman, and in an amused embarrassment, they hesitated for a moment on how to greet each other, finally agreeing for a common kiss on the cheek and sat down.

With a voice higher than usual, Abigail started the conversation: "How are you? You look... really well-dressed. I had noticed it at the station, but now, what class!

— You flatter me," admitted Staan, adjusting his seat. "However, I must concede the elegance to you: you look lovely. And to answer your question, I'm doing quite well, and you? What about your dismissal?

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

— That? Well, it's official: I'm no longer part of the police force!" announced Abigail.

— I'm sorry to hear that," he sympathized. "It seemed like you enjoyed it.

— It's true that I liked working there a lot, but lately... I don't know... I was getting... bored?Like I was coming to work, but I wasn't really there. You know what I mean?" Abigail confided, almost uncertain of her own words. "With my promotion, I hoped to regain motivation. Bad luck. I guess we are punished for where we sinned.

— Are you a believer?" Staan inquired, intrigued.

— Not at all. But when my sister died, my mother found solace in religion. She cut herself off from the world, from my father, and from me. He couldn't bear it and decided to rebuild his life somewhere else. The only way I found to reconnect with my mother was to study the sacred texts a bit," she explained. "Me, who doesn't believe in God, know probably more about it than many grandmothers who go to mass on Sundays. Ironic, isn't it?

— It's true that few believers read their holy books, unfortunately," admitted Staan, well aware.

— Are YOU a believer?" she asked, suddenly realizing the impact of her words. "Sorry, I kinda spoke without even thinking about it; I'm still struggling bewteen formal and familiar, adressing you.

— Do as you wish; I won't hold it against you," he smiled. "As for your question, I wouldn't know what to answer. I can't say I'm a very good believer, but I know that God exists.

— You seem quite certain," noted Abigail. "You see, I think that in religion, it must be the concept I struggle with the most: God's omni-everything. You're going to tell me that's the whole point, but still. What is His work? What isn't? If it isn't, is it free will? If God has a plan for each of us and never alters it, what's the point of praying?

— A theologian would be much better equipped to answer you than I am, but I must admit that I believe much more in free will and personal choices," replied Staan, respectful of his own beliefs. "God, Hell, angels, all of that shouldn't influence humanity in any way. It's up to each individual to live as they see fit.

— You sound like you're not part of it. So, Mr. Alien," Abigail laughed. "What will you order? Do you even eat human food?"