"Look," the Mercurian told the human manning the counter, "I'm sorry, and I really don't mean to be an asshole about this."

Her flat-eyed gaze told him that he was, intentions aside.

"I didn't even get to watch them!" He'd been sent into Trauma by a particularly nasty Balseraph of Fate who'd been passing himself off as a Malakite.

She lifted an eyebrow.

"I was dead at the time!"

While that did draw a laugh, it was a rather bitter one. "Sir, you have ninety dollars in video late fees. At that cost, you'll have to produce a certificate of death before we can waive them."

He sighed, glanced around for anything he could use to further his cause - how could he explain going overbudget to his Archangel? - and caught sight of a suspicious looking man.

He pinged.

Then he smiled at the woman and nodded over. "Ah - ma'am? I just saw that fellow stick some of the new release DVDs under his jacket."

Her eyes widened with alarm and she called over another of the salespersons - perhaps it was one of the managers working double duty?

The angel watched with pleasure as the criminal was apprehended and the DVDs put back.

The clerk...sighed. "Okay, sir. Just don't do it again, okay?"

"I'll try my best," the angel said. He took his new rentals happily, and left the building, entirely unaware of the three Servitors of Theft lurking on his shortcut home.