The angel sighed. "All right, let me figure this out intelligently. Never one for puzzles, of course, but if you insist..." He tapped his chin, and smiled at her. "Let's see. I happen to know you've a reputation with men, and that you've had drinks with a good friend of mine, John Constantine. It's entirely possible that those keys in your hand could have something to do with the fact that I suddenly can't find him, or the handcuffs I used for magic tricks long ago."

He fixed her with his blue, blue eyes. "But I cannot believe that such a random explanation is true, and must bow to common sense. I mean absolutely no offense, my dear," oops, "but if it is anything that could remotely be termed dangerous, I really ought to know." He gave her his best no-nonsense-but-very-kind grandfather look. "So tell me, why are you looking so guilty?"