Mercy smiled. "Hello Michael." Her nose wrinkled. New paint, the faint smell of ozone that denoted Michael, something that vaguely smelled like Gabriel (possibly one of the other angels in port), and a few overlaying scents of those that lived here.

What started her sneezing, though, was the prevalence of magic. It made her hackles stand up and she had to cautiously look down at herself to make sure she didn't have hackles.

Finally, she managed to sniff to a halt. "Sorry." She cleared her throat. "So, the garage?"