(Untitled)

[a_fell]

The theatre's just a minute's walk from St James' Park, so it makes sense for the two of them to meet there without having to make it about any issues other than convenience. It's been raining a little throughout the afternoon; just enough to freshen the air and discourage most casual walkers. The late afternoon sun is warm now, though, slanting

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[aj_crawley]

The weather is one thing Crowley is never optimistic about, but that's alright; the bloody-minded certainty of most English that it'll clear up any second now more than balances it out. Even now, people are starting to repopulate the park, telling each other that they knew it was only a short shower.

The demon dodges a woman too absorbed in a phone conversation to watch her step, and weaves his way through the small cluster surrounding an ice-cream cart that seems to have materialised from thin air.

He raises his hand in an almost-wave when he spots the angel, and changes course accordingly.

[a_fell]

Aziraphael smiles and raises his own hand in response. He looks as though he's about to stand to greet Crowley, but changes his mind when a portly gentleman, apparently too cheap to invest in the traditional mid-life crisis means of transportation, barrels past on a skateboard. The angel blinks after him for a moment, taken rather aback, then tilts his head to smile up at Crowley.

"Lovely afternoon, isn't it?"

[aj_crawley]

"Well, it is now," he allows, eyeing the sky suspiciously. There's barely a cloud to be seen, however, so after giving the blue expanse a final warning glare, Crowley rearranges his coat and seats himself beside Aziraphael.

A few dozen yards distant, there's a rather loud and sudden crash, as the portly gentleman has a close encounter of the high-speed kind with the ice-cream vendor's sandwich-board.

After a moment, a lone skateboard wheel rolls, unharmed, out of the wreckage.

[a_fell]

"Really, my dear," the angel murmurs, the corners of his mouth tilting irresistably upward.