Joan frowned slightly, reading over the paper Uriel had had indicated. It seemed innocuous enough, just an agreement to abide by the rules Uriel had mentioned and that her right to remain in the mansion would be forfeit if she broke them. Still, she hesitated. Joan didn't like signing things. She'd been forced to sign a confession of heresy during her farcical trial at Rouens. She'd recanted, and this was hardly the same thing, but she didn't have to like it.
But she did have to do it. Orders were orders, after all. Bite the bit, Jeanie, she reprimanded herself sternly. Are you going to let Michael see you go squeamish over something as insignificant as a rent contract in the face of duty?
She suppressed a grimace and signed her real, French name, though she'd intended to just write Joan of Arc.
"It's fine," she added to the anxious angel, wondering why she seemed so nervous. What was an Archangel the level of the Severer worried about?
Maybe it was a pregnancy thing. Thank God for making me a soldier, Joan thought fervently.
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2006-08-17 01:23 am (UTC)But she did have to do it. Orders were orders, after all. Bite the bit, Jeanie, she reprimanded herself sternly. Are you going to let Michael see you go squeamish over something as insignificant as a rent contract in the face of duty?
She suppressed a grimace and signed her real, French name, though she'd intended to just write Joan of Arc.
"It's fine," she added to the anxious angel, wondering why she seemed so nervous. What was an Archangel the level of the Severer worried about?
Maybe it was a pregnancy thing. Thank God for making me a soldier, Joan thought fervently.