Aziraphale and Leon (closed)
Location: Main Street, U.S.A.
Mood: Troubled
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Following his bewildering interview at Sleeping Beauty's Castle, Aziraphale made his way slowly back toward Main Street and the apartment he (apparently) shared with Leon. The "apparently" troubled him greatly, as did his conspicuous failure to remember certain other persons whose casual mention by Crowley suggested they must have been quite familiar at one time.
It had been very kind of the demon to extend an invitation to stay with him in New Orleans Square, and the angel supposed he ought to be suspicious of Crowley's motives for that very reason. But he'd long since lost the habit of thinking of Crowley as the Enemy, and right now his familiarity trumped all other concerns.
As he passed the big statue of Disney and Mickey, the railway tracks and the various shops and attractions, he missed London as never before. He missed his bookshop, and the Ritz, and the ducks at St. James' Park (not that there was anything wrong with the ducks here; they were perfectly lovely ducks and he was quite fond of them,) Westminster Abbey and Big Ben...even the shop of ill repute next door. And Crowley's Bentley, too, which surprised him. London had been home in a way that few of his Earthly residences had ever been. He wondered whether he would ever see the place again.
This place wasn't precisely unpleasant, he reflected as he entered the Fire Station and made his way upstairs. It was simply too new, too artificial and too relentlessly cheerful to be comfortable for someone of his age and experience. There was also the small matter of not being able to leave; that definitely cast a pall over this so-called "happiest place on Earth." (Which, as near as he could tell, wasn't on Earth at all. Or any other plane of existence with which he was familiar. Altogether it was enough to make his head hurt, so he tried not to dwell on it too much.)
Stepping through the door to the opulent suite, he tried to remember what he did know about Leon and to decide how he was going to explain the situation to him. "Hello," he called hesitantly. "Leon, are you home?" Perhaps the man had heard his interrogation over the park's loudspeakers. He hoped he wasn't in for another round of questioning.
Mood: Troubled
---
Following his bewildering interview at Sleeping Beauty's Castle, Aziraphale made his way slowly back toward Main Street and the apartment he (apparently) shared with Leon. The "apparently" troubled him greatly, as did his conspicuous failure to remember certain other persons whose casual mention by Crowley suggested they must have been quite familiar at one time.
It had been very kind of the demon to extend an invitation to stay with him in New Orleans Square, and the angel supposed he ought to be suspicious of Crowley's motives for that very reason. But he'd long since lost the habit of thinking of Crowley as the Enemy, and right now his familiarity trumped all other concerns.
As he passed the big statue of Disney and Mickey, the railway tracks and the various shops and attractions, he missed London as never before. He missed his bookshop, and the Ritz, and the ducks at St. James' Park (not that there was anything wrong with the ducks here; they were perfectly lovely ducks and he was quite fond of them,) Westminster Abbey and Big Ben...even the shop of ill repute next door. And Crowley's Bentley, too, which surprised him. London had been home in a way that few of his Earthly residences had ever been. He wondered whether he would ever see the place again.
This place wasn't precisely unpleasant, he reflected as he entered the Fire Station and made his way upstairs. It was simply too new, too artificial and too relentlessly cheerful to be comfortable for someone of his age and experience. There was also the small matter of not being able to leave; that definitely cast a pall over this so-called "happiest place on Earth." (Which, as near as he could tell, wasn't on Earth at all. Or any other plane of existence with which he was familiar. Altogether it was enough to make his head hurt, so he tried not to dwell on it too much.)
Stepping through the door to the opulent suite, he tried to remember what he did know about Leon and to decide how he was going to explain the situation to him. "Hello," he called hesitantly. "Leon, are you home?" Perhaps the man had heard his interrogation over the park's loudspeakers. He hoped he wasn't in for another round of questioning.