The details were vague, but Gabriel got enough of the context, and he echoed the twist of her lips with a wry smile of his own. Then his expression morphed into startled indignation.

"Hey!" he objected. "What's wrong with this face? I'll have you know I've worn it for fifteen hundred years!" Then he frowned. "Which, okay, I'll grant you is a while, but everyone else tended to burn out after a century or two no matter how careful I was with 'em."

He didn't think he want to give this one up, even if he could. Not jus because the man had been his one true vessel, which kept him from burning out, but because they'd had a lot of fun together before he asked Gabriel to send his soul on. Taking another meatsuit would have meant binding another soul all over again, and he had less justification for it now than he ever had.