Aziraphael considers knocking on the door of the flat, just to be polite, but reconsiders; people these days, he's found, tend to have an armful of baby. It hinders the door-opening process. So he pokes his head around the door instead, calls out a polite greeting, edges into the hall - and promptly almost falls over a small dog.

It's good to be

Aziraphael dutifully left everything switched on; he suspects that Kaylee can be quite formidable, if riled. Now he's wandering down the corridor, lost in thought, pinching his bottom lip - when he reaches Kaylee's door it seems like the next logical progression in his train of thought to stop and knock on it ( Read more... )

Aziraphael has never particularly liked ships.

It's the dull sound of his feet on metal, the reminder that he's entirely surrounded by it - no chance of popping outside for a quick cup of tea in the sunshine. For that matter, it's the lack of sunshine, and windows, and doors that don't slide ( Read more... )

"This is really - " Aziraphael halts a moment to scrape the side of his boot against a tussock of grass - there's no telling what one it might be, not here - "really very good of you, Captain Reynolds. I'm sure I can't thank you enough ( Read more... )

Crowley ( Read more... )

It has been a Day.

It has, in fact, been A Week, capital letters most certainly deserved; not dreadfully distressing, or awfully draining, just continuous. Far too long spent away then today, for novelty value, he'd opened his shop. It's not as though he ever really gets an awful lot of customers - he'd thought it might be a nice change. Spending ( Read more... )

[On the back of a postcard]Crowley ( Read more... )

Aziraphael's sitting in a corner of the bar, alone.

He's not just alone, he's rather emphatically so, as though this corner has quite ceased to exist in most people's minds. It's not intrusive, not at all, it's just that most feel like taking a slight detour, perhaps, from habitual paths ( Read more... )

Stripes of wan sunlight paint the floor of the Prior's study and the antiquated heating system lets out the occasional clank and groan that interrupts the soft music that's playing; Bach, even after so long. He's not so set in his ways as he once was, certainly, but some traditions are worth maintaining ( Read more... )

Bernard's in the study, frowning down at a diagram Aziraphael considers it entirely safer not to enquire about; 'Dora and Anthony, it would appear, are (for once) synchronised in sleep patterns. There are certainly opportunities for entertainment, that's true enough, but for some reason (possibly the angel's new jumper) the various paints, glitters ( Read more... )