Even with it being fairly early in the evening, Aziraphale couldn't exactly explain the sudden desire he had to go out to the park, bag of frozen pees miracled into his hands, to feed the ducks at such an hour. He didn't sleep, no, but more often then not, once the sun went down, he was just happy to stay inside the bookshop and read to pass the night away. Perhaps it was because of his newfound freedom. He didn't have to wait for Heaven to send him any new orders. Didn't have to do anything they wanted him to do, could go where he wanted, could spend time with whomever he felt like spending time with, could decide one day to simply buy a little cottage down south, just for the He-...just for the experience. And maybe he would! But tonight, it seemed, was a "feed the ducks" night.
And why shouldn't he? It wasn't...strange. He didn't need to second-guess the sudden incomprehensible need he'd had to stand there, in the middle of the park, lit only by streetlamps as people passed by, tossing out ice-cold bits of vegetable to the birds, as if something had told him he needed to be there. Crowley had been sleeping off the past few days, anyway, had at least had the forethought to warn him ahead of time that he was going to be incommunicado for a little bit to recuperate from the frankly massive amounts of power he'd had to spend the previous week, instead of simply curling up in his massive bed and blocking out the rest of the world for a few decades straight. So it was understandable that the angel might have been feeling a little...bored, now that he had all this time to do whatever he wanted, and nobody to do it with. Not that he blamed him, of course. He had looked to be falling asleep in his seat when they'd last lunched at the Ritz, anyway, and if it weren't for those stunts he'd pulled, Aziraphale wasn't even sure if they would have been able to survive the way they had, so he had earned the rest as far as he was concerned, and it wasn't his fault that Aziraphale just wanted nothing more then to spend every single waking hour of his non-sleep-filled life with him, now that he had the cha-...!
The soft, tickling sensation of a miracle fluttering through the air behind him stilled his hand and his thoughts for a brief moment, before his face lit up like a child's on Christmas morning, and he turned, looking around with unhidden joy. "Crowley!" But no. He didn't see that familiar shock of fiery-red hair, the unmistakable silhouette of the demon as he swaggered up on legs that moved as if they weren't even connected to his hips. His smile wilted in confusion as he glanced around, barely giving the nearby form on Their Bench a second glance before he reached out with his angelic senses, feeling around for the source of the magic.
Oh, but there. The man he'd at first overlooked, who now that he focused on him seemed to be looking around in a fit of shock as faintly alarmed noises rippled through the air from somewhere vaguely around his jet-black hair. For a moment, the world felt as if it had shifted awkwardly, a half step to the left of where it should have been, and Aziraphale blinked in dumbfounded bewilderment as he stared at the figure with his ethereal set of eyes. There was no denying that soul, he would recognize it anywhere, even if his friend had apparently been given a brand new body.
Regaining his composure, he found himself rushing forward, the demon's obvious state of unrest and his unfamiliar physical manifestation immediately sending a jolt of worry through him.
"Crowley, what's happened to you? Were you discorp-who is that?!" Now that he was close enough to see it in the lamplight, the source of those distressed noises made his feathers ruffle in the ether, his wings mantling behind his shoulders where only another celestial would have been able to see them, a defensive sort of stance as he stared at the small lizard resting on top of his head. "What's the meaning of this? Decided that if you couldn't kill him, you would...would..." He huffed, confused, gesturing at the form in front of him even as he snapped out in indignation at the reptile who was hitching a ride on his best friend's head. But no. There seemed to be nothing but Crowley in front of him, no other demon's soul emanating from the tiny scaled form. Just Crowley, looking - at least to someone who knew how to read his mannerisms as well as Aziraphale did - very shocked, in a new body, and with an equally shocked passenger that seemed to be a part of him.
"No...no, I'm sorry, my dear. I'm getting ahead of myself, aren't I? It's alright, settle down, you're safe. Now, what's happened?" Because the last thing he needed right now was for Crowley to let that shock get the better of him. He could be flighty and impulsive when he felt like he was cornered. And Aziraphale suspected "cornered" was as understatement, if something severe enough had happened to have forced him into his current state.
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And why shouldn't he? It wasn't...strange. He didn't need to second-guess the sudden incomprehensible need he'd had to stand there, in the middle of the park, lit only by streetlamps as people passed by, tossing out ice-cold bits of vegetable to the birds, as if something had told him he needed to be there. Crowley had been sleeping off the past few days, anyway, had at least had the forethought to warn him ahead of time that he was going to be incommunicado for a little bit to recuperate from the frankly massive amounts of power he'd had to spend the previous week, instead of simply curling up in his massive bed and blocking out the rest of the world for a few decades straight. So it was understandable that the angel might have been feeling a little...bored, now that he had all this time to do whatever he wanted, and nobody to do it with. Not that he blamed him, of course. He had looked to be falling asleep in his seat when they'd last lunched at the Ritz, anyway, and if it weren't for those stunts he'd pulled, Aziraphale wasn't even sure if they would have been able to survive the way they had, so he had earned the rest as far as he was concerned, and it wasn't his fault that Aziraphale just wanted nothing more then to spend every single waking hour of his non-sleep-filled life with him, now that he had the cha-...!
The soft, tickling sensation of a miracle fluttering through the air behind him stilled his hand and his thoughts for a brief moment, before his face lit up like a child's on Christmas morning, and he turned, looking around with unhidden joy. "Crowley!" But no. He didn't see that familiar shock of fiery-red hair, the unmistakable silhouette of the demon as he swaggered up on legs that moved as if they weren't even connected to his hips. His smile wilted in confusion as he glanced around, barely giving the nearby form on Their Bench a second glance before he reached out with his angelic senses, feeling around for the source of the magic.
Oh, but there. The man he'd at first overlooked, who now that he focused on him seemed to be looking around in a fit of shock as faintly alarmed noises rippled through the air from somewhere vaguely around his jet-black hair. For a moment, the world felt as if it had shifted awkwardly, a half step to the left of where it should have been, and Aziraphale blinked in dumbfounded bewilderment as he stared at the figure with his ethereal set of eyes. There was no denying that soul, he would recognize it anywhere, even if his friend had apparently been given a brand new body.
Regaining his composure, he found himself rushing forward, the demon's obvious state of unrest and his unfamiliar physical manifestation immediately sending a jolt of worry through him.
"Crowley, what's happened to you? Were you discorp-who is that?!" Now that he was close enough to see it in the lamplight, the source of those distressed noises made his feathers ruffle in the ether, his wings mantling behind his shoulders where only another celestial would have been able to see them, a defensive sort of stance as he stared at the small lizard resting on top of his head. "What's the meaning of this? Decided that if you couldn't kill him, you would...would..." He huffed, confused, gesturing at the form in front of him even as he snapped out in indignation at the reptile who was hitching a ride on his best friend's head. But no. There seemed to be nothing but Crowley in front of him, no other demon's soul emanating from the tiny scaled form. Just Crowley, looking - at least to someone who knew how to read his mannerisms as well as Aziraphale did - very shocked, in a new body, and with an equally shocked passenger that seemed to be a part of him.
"No...no, I'm sorry, my dear. I'm getting ahead of myself, aren't I? It's alright, settle down, you're safe. Now, what's happened?" Because the last thing he needed right now was for Crowley to let that shock get the better of him. He could be flighty and impulsive when he felt like he was cornered. And Aziraphale suspected "cornered" was as understatement, if something severe enough had happened to have forced him into his current state.