He'd been about to suggest once more that Kevin claim to be an alien avian ("You could say you're a swan — no, that sounds conceited. A snow goose perhaps, or a black-crowned night heron. Oooh, I know: a stork. Or a pelican?"), but he knows that it's not only Uriel's brightness that gives him away as a creature not of this world nor any other, but also that ineffable sensation of divinity.

It isn't the sort of thing to be revealed casually; it is the sort of thing for which a person might count himself blessed, if he experienced it for a single instant in his life. It's the sort of thing that makes one feel that one's existence is worthwhile and precious — even if one has managed to cock things up royally.

He shuts his eyelids and smiles half-way, his features in repose. The blasts of energy weapons seem far away, and Mad Hatter has settled down.

"Well I'm glad I ran into you, anyway. Something I wanted to talk to you about."