Meanwhile, back at the Club...

[soho_angel]

...a demon was trying, with the assistance of large quantities of alcohol, to ignore the sounds of park-wide destruction that might or might not mean the end of their sojourn in this place; and an angel was humoring said demon as best he could, despite his own none-too-cleverly-hidden hope that it would in fact mean that very thing. Not being

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[anthony_crowley]

Crowley gave him a who-gives-a-damn look over his sunglasses and waved the lights back on. His next pour was a triple and by then, three-quarters of the bottle was gone...

[soho_angel]

Aziraphale sighed. It was nearly impossible to have a conversation with Crowley when the demon was in this mood, especially if it was about anything important. Any attempts at making him feel better were sure to be soundly rebuffed (if there actually was a sure-fire way to cheer him up, Aziraphale had yet to find it. Cayce or Ellie might have more luck, but that wasn't particularly helpful at the moment

[anthony_crowley]

"Why the fuck would I want to talk about it, angel?" retorted Crowley vehemently.

"Just because at any moment they might sssucceed at getting us kicked back to London where I can't work for fear of the brat and I can't not for fear of his father, where the fucking Sword of Damocles is hanging over my head in terms of whether I'm even going to be allowed to continue to exissst or not, and where no one would give a flying fuck if I didn't except for someone who's not even allowed to admit it; why the FUCK would I want to talk about it?"

His vocabulary was slowly decreasing along with the amber liquid in the bottle.

[soho_angel]

For someone who didn't care to discuss it, he had quite a bit to say, but the angel wasn't concerned with that; he'd latched onto the one thing in Crowley's tirade that he could, perhaps, actually do something about.

Walking to the demon's chair, he picked up and deliberately moved the bottle out of Crowley's reach, saying, "Well, let me say it while I have the chance, then..."

Hunkering down so he could look his friend straight in the face, if those dratted sunglasses still prevented eye contact, he said with quiet conviction, "You are very dear to me. By which I do not just mean the particular bit of His Creation that happens to be termed Anthony J. Crowley, I mean you. And you're going to go right on existing if I have to personally unman every demon in Hell to see to it."

[chantinellie]

The lights were out, the rides had stopped, the PA system was silent and Aeryn had taken off to join the group at the door. Ellie was left to her own devices, but she didn't stand around long wondering what to do with herself.

She left her axe embedded in a support column at the Chalet and headed for New Orleans Square at a run, flitting past darkened storefronts and idle mechanical figures almost too quickly for the eye to follow. She neither slowed nor spared a glance as she passed the castle. The people below had made their choice, and she had made hers.

[caycep]

Cayce, half-blind from crying and lost in thought, completely failed to see that she was on a direct collision course with Ellie.

[chantinellie]

"WHOA!" The succubus caught sight of Cayce just in time to put on the brakes, and collided relatively harmlessly, catching hold of the other woman so that neither of them would fall. "Shit, I'm sorry, honey. Are you okay?"

[caycep]

"Ellie." Cayce dragged her arm across her face and amanged a very poor smile. "Yeah. No. I ..." Deep breath. "Maybe I should start at the beginning." She looked around. "Looks like you guys did a heck of a job up here."