"There's superglue, which smells like a chemical factory," he offered. "And if humans didn't sniff each other, there wouldn't be a market for colognes and soaps and aromatherapy." The spark of paranoia had settled, but Barnaby knew it hadn't gone, just retreated to a corner of his mind to kick back on a sofa with a drink.

He shook the metaphor from his head. He really needed to get out more.

Meanwhile, the relations between the angels were straining just a little. The anthropomorphized paranoia sat up at this, and started listening intently. Outside of his head, Barnaby flicked through his book and only said, "Ah? I try not to run into those people. Are there many in your neck of the woods?"