(Untitled)

[aj_crawley]

There's nothing unusual about the room. Of course, it would be hard for any room to be unusual by Milliways' standards, but this could pass for a hotel a back home - albeit an old-fashioned one, with wooden floors, exposed beams, a fireplace. A bed, bedside tables, a pair of armchairs; everything utterly unremarkable

Comments

[un_fallen]

Raguel pokes his head in when there's no response to his knock. Hearing the water running, he slips inside, closing the door behind him, and takes a seat in one of the armchairs. There does seem to be one more glass when he looks at the nearest table; imagine that. He fills it from the bottle and - belatedly - gets up to fetch the book. His attention is more on the wine, though; he has some catching up to do.

[aj_crawley]

Crowley certainly takes her time; long enough for the drumming of the shower (loud though it is) to fade into the background, and long enough that when it stops, the sudden silence seems strange, and unnatural.

After that, however, she's relatively quick. After all, why towel off when you can accomplish the same with little more than a thought? When Crowley pads out of the bathroom, finally, the only signs of her having taken a shower are her bare feet, and the damp, curling ends of her hair.

(She can never get it all the way dry. One of life's little mysteries. So to speak.)

She doesn't seem surprised to see Raguel - he is an angel; she's known he was there since he came in - but she does raise her eyebrows when she spots the level of wine in the bottle.

It's... somewhat reduced.

"Thief," Crowley says mildly.

[un_fallen]

"I brought a replacement," he counters, gesturing at the opposite table where a second bottle stands. "If we need it."

He tosses the book back onto the bedspread and sighs.

"I wouldn't bother with that. It's terrible."

[aj_crawley]

"Is it?" she asks vaguely, dropping into the armchair opposite. "I haven't cracked it open yet."

She hasn't looked at it at all.