"The face is worthy of portrait-painting," Gabriel allowed, "though I'd spend more than five minutes if I were to make the effort."

He steps closer, holding his cigarette away to the side as he assesses Niall anew, studying him with an artist's eye and reaching out a fingertip to trace the line of his jaw. "Saint Sebastian a bit too cliche, pleasant though it might be. You don't have adequate gravitas for a devil. Faust, perhaps? He's so often depicted as old and dusty, some dry old scholar, but Faust claimed all the world's delights before he grew bored of them. I always thought he should be pretty enough to open doors. And legs."

Drawing the last of the smoke from his cigarette, Gabriel drops it and grinds it out, blowing smoke at Niall like a blown kiss. "Perhaps another time."