(no subject)

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

Aziraphael and Crowley spent much of the afternoon in the British Museum, arguing quietly (about art, Michelangelo, aesthetics of nudity and any number of subjects, related or no) and knowledgeably enough that by the time they were done they'd unwittingly - at least on Aziraphael's part - gathered quite the audience.

The angel had insisted - eyeing the long communal tables with something very like distaste - that they go elsewhere for tea, which had evolved quickly into Crowley taunting Aziraphael with cream buns, which had led to another argument; Lent, this time. And whether Jesus would have sung a different tune vis a vis temptation, had the cities of the world included London. And sushi bars.

This had, naturally, pointed them in the direction of raw fish and sake, which had led them - by somewhat meandering routes - to the door of the bar.

Crowley heads directly over to order some drinks, and Aziraphael takes a seat at their usual table and beams good-naturedly at the various patrons.

It's been a good day.