aj_crawley (
aj_crawley) wrote in
milliways_bar2010-05-09 07:45 pm
Entry tags:
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"So are you denying you were involved?"
"Wasn't that the gist of what I was saying?"
"But - if you'll forgive me for saying so, my dear - isn't that rather the sort of silliness you enjoy?"
"Are you suggesting I don't take the election process seriously?"
"Oh, and that gaffe was a part of the election process, was it?"
"Well, public transparency is important in these things, don't you think?"
"You don't feel it was a little... juvenile?"
"Aren't most little old ladies from Manchester bigots anyway?"
"Non-sequitur, I'm afraid. My serve."
"Bugger."
One angel and one demon, feet discreetly tangled under the table, sharing a tall pitcher of something that looks like fruit juice but is, in all probability, considerably more alcoholic.
From the sound of things, they're feeling rather sociable tonight.
(Of course, if you should need to catch either of them alone, you're not entirely out of luck. One of the many benefits of an ethereal constitution is that refreshments that are merely considerably alcoholic needn't slow one down for quite some time. It's more or less a certainty that each of them, at some point or another, will be sallying forth to Bar herself to replenish supplies.)
[OOC: Two occult beings for the price of one! Tag either or tag both - just mention which in your comment.]
"Wasn't that the gist of what I was saying?"
"But - if you'll forgive me for saying so, my dear - isn't that rather the sort of silliness you enjoy?"
"Are you suggesting I don't take the election process seriously?"
"Oh, and that gaffe was a part of the election process, was it?"
"Well, public transparency is important in these things, don't you think?"
"You don't feel it was a little... juvenile?"
"Aren't most little old ladies from Manchester bigots anyway?"
"Non-sequitur, I'm afraid. My serve."
"Bugger."
One angel and one demon, feet discreetly tangled under the table, sharing a tall pitcher of something that looks like fruit juice but is, in all probability, considerably more alcoholic.
From the sound of things, they're feeling rather sociable tonight.
(Of course, if you should need to catch either of them alone, you're not entirely out of luck. One of the many benefits of an ethereal constitution is that refreshments that are merely considerably alcoholic needn't slow one down for quite some time. It's more or less a certainty that each of them, at some point or another, will be sallying forth to Bar herself to replenish supplies.)
[OOC: Two occult beings for the price of one! Tag either or tag both - just mention which in your comment.]

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"Have you wondered at all where we'll go on our next holiday?"
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"Is that still on the table, then?"
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"Would you prefer it was taken off the table, so to speak?"
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"What gives you that impression?"
Under the table, his ankle presses slightly against Aziraphael's.
(After Christmas, and every exhausting thing that went with, they hadn't taken a holiday in the end. Or at least, they hadn't gone abroad to have one. Midway through January, when the decibel levels of the tourists flooding London had abated somewhat, Crowley'd installed them in a Green Park suite at the Ritz for a long weekend: theatre in the evenings, dinner and dancing - or at least, watching the dancing - in the Palm Court, and, er. Taking advantage of the amenities in the evening. It's not what they might have called a holiday a few years ago, perhaps, but - )
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His smile isn't devious this time - delighted would be closer, though that isn't quite it, either. It's not meant for public view.
"Is it not a somewhat delicate time to be away from your gardening duties?"
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"And we can't go after everything's done... why?"
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"Do you really foresee a time when everything is done?"
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"What, you don't trust me to know when the place can fend for itself for a bit?"
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"So you'll let me know when it's a good time for our holiday, then?"
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It all depends, see. Crowley isn't about to give up the comforts of London for a caravan holiday in Wales.
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"Would Cornwall be too far?"
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"Are you planning to go by yourself?"
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"Is that a 'yes?'"
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"Why Cornwall?"
(Scanning his memory for any summer book fairs of note in Cornwall, Crowley realises two things: one, that he can't think of any off the top of his head, and two, that he has a small mental catalogue of British book fairs.)
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"Are you unaware of the many pleasant things there are to do on holiday in Cornwall?"
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Come on, Aziraphael walked right into that one.
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(Answer: Aziraphael.)
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"Isn't the general idea behind the summer holiday to go somewhere that's a little cooler?"
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(It all depends, see.)
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There's a very slight emphasis on the word public.
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