The seagull stared at the penguin, which stared back.

Eventually the penguin opened its beak and hummed, which resolved into words for the two of them. "You've got to be fucking kidding."

"What?" The seagull fluffed up indignantly. "I think I'd make a WONDERFUL angel of penguins!"

"HEY! HEY!" The penguin flapped its flightless wings. "WHO is the penguin around here? WHO would make a wonderful angel of penguins?"

The seagull muttered, shifting its feet on the stone it was standing on. "This is prejudice, you know."

"PREJUDICE?" The penguin waved its wings harder. "UNTRUE! It's just that you're a fucking *seagull!*"

"There's no need for harsh language, Most Holy," the seagull sulked.

"A fucking seagull!"

The seagull was silent for a moment, shifting and eyeing the penguin with a beedy glare. "So? Ofanim *are* attuned to birds."

"Yeah, to FLYING birds."

"WELL," the seagull said. "We'll just take it to the Archangel and see what he says."

The penguin sniffed, put out. "Yes. I suppose we shall."

"Now if you can *excuse* me," the seagull said, barely restraining his hostility, "I'm going to go haunt beaches for spilled french fries."

"Fine."

"*Fine*."

"I'm really going," the seagull added.

The penguin snorted. "You do that, Throne."

The seagull took off for parts french fry; the penguin slid back into the icy water. The waters teemed with life - but, the penguin thought snottily, at least most of the FISHES didn't want the word of Penguins...