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(catch-all) (open & closed) smile through the discontent
Who: Aziraphale & Others (OTA - with some closed prompts)
When: Various points of Mareuer
Where: Across Aefenglom
What: Catch-all
Warnings: Language and some drugged alcohol
i. in most cases, sugar solves the problem. (OTA)
ii. no greater enemy than the whims of others. (OTA)
iii. an angel and a demon walk into a bar. (Crowley; A Study in Bars Left)
iv. little rips in the timeline. (Geralt)
v. roll the dice (Wildcard)
When: Various points of Mareuer
Where: Across Aefenglom
What: Catch-all
Warnings: Language and some drugged alcohol
i. in most cases, sugar solves the problem. (OTA)
Everyone, as far as Aziraphale has seen, has been desperately trying to pretend as if things were back to normal. As if something terrifying and nightmarish hadn't just recently occurred, but Aziraphale doesn't intend to pry too much into it. Rather, he is grateful for the little things. Or, perhaps, they're big things depending on how one might look at it.
That is, the relative safety of those he cares about.
His co-worker has even already returned back to work, which displays a remarkable amount of resolve on her part. She's quite listless and out of it, which is understandable and he knows it'll get better in time. Eventually. He's seen the same look on several of the customers who have come by the bakery as well, each one looking thoroughly worn out.
"Here," he says, looking over at the current exhausted individual lingering by the counter. Aziraphale extends out a square slice of lemon-frosted pound cake that's been neatly wrapped up in a cloth napkin, sliding it over across the counter.
"You look as if you could use something sweet to nibble on right now."
Then, he smiles.
That is, the relative safety of those he cares about.
His co-worker has even already returned back to work, which displays a remarkable amount of resolve on her part. She's quite listless and out of it, which is understandable and he knows it'll get better in time. Eventually. He's seen the same look on several of the customers who have come by the bakery as well, each one looking thoroughly worn out.
"Here," he says, looking over at the current exhausted individual lingering by the counter. Aziraphale extends out a square slice of lemon-frosted pound cake that's been neatly wrapped up in a cloth napkin, sliding it over across the counter.
"You look as if you could use something sweet to nibble on right now."
Then, he smiles.
ii. no greater enemy than the whims of others. (OTA)
More than occasionally, Aziraphale gets the impression that many of the unique quirks of this city were designed entirely to vex him. It feels as if it were almost too much to ask for him to be able have a peaceful and quiet day without some strange incident.
Today, one of those such incidents takes the form of some curiously small fae who had been upsettingly successful at pickpocketing him. The little thing had yanked his watch right out of his pocket and then nosedived itself into a mound of dirt just by the pathway that lead up to his home.
Despite himself, Aziraphale had leapt after it much like any cat wound and dug his hands into the ground in hopes of retrieving the little thief. He has already made two solid holes during his search effort.
"I assure you, I am not angry. I am not angry with you at all," Aziraphale mutters in a terse tone that makes it undoubtedly clear that he is not being entirely truthful. He might not be angry, but he is definitely upset.
"But, you see, I do—" he begins, slamming his hand down at the first sign of movement against the grass. "—really need that back!"
Today, one of those such incidents takes the form of some curiously small fae who had been upsettingly successful at pickpocketing him. The little thing had yanked his watch right out of his pocket and then nosedived itself into a mound of dirt just by the pathway that lead up to his home.
Despite himself, Aziraphale had leapt after it much like any cat wound and dug his hands into the ground in hopes of retrieving the little thief. He has already made two solid holes during his search effort.
"I assure you, I am not angry. I am not angry with you at all," Aziraphale mutters in a terse tone that makes it undoubtedly clear that he is not being entirely truthful. He might not be angry, but he is definitely upset.
"But, you see, I do—" he begins, slamming his hand down at the first sign of movement against the grass. "—really need that back!"
iii. an angel and a demon walk into a bar. (Crowley; A Study in Bars Left)
When Crowley suggests, in that easy way that he always does, that the two of them go out drinking after a particularly mediocre dinner, Aziraphale cannot imagine declining. Not only was it one of the best ideas he had heard in quite some time, it was also something he felt that they both sorely needed. The recent days had been so stressful and so eventful that he truly did believe that the both of them needed to spend an evening doing something fun.
Although, a part of him does wonder if it would be considered a date? What exactly defined something as a date as opposed to one of their regular outings out together?
The bar they end up at is nice enough, but in a way that implies that the owners of the establishment had spent more time on the menu and drink quality than the decoration of the space. It isn't entirely to Aziraphale's preference, but Crowley seems to like it somewhat if his expression is any indication. He assumes that to be because of its similarities to a dive bar.
"Have you given any thought to the idea of starting your own business?" Aziraphale asks after they settle in at a table and have their respective orders taken.
Although, a part of him does wonder if it would be considered a date? What exactly defined something as a date as opposed to one of their regular outings out together?
The bar they end up at is nice enough, but in a way that implies that the owners of the establishment had spent more time on the menu and drink quality than the decoration of the space. It isn't entirely to Aziraphale's preference, but Crowley seems to like it somewhat if his expression is any indication. He assumes that to be because of its similarities to a dive bar.
"Have you given any thought to the idea of starting your own business?" Aziraphale asks after they settle in at a table and have their respective orders taken.
iv. little rips in the timeline. (Geralt)
Among the handful of letters that Aziraphale sends out to inquire after the wellbeing of some individuals he had not otherwise seen, there is one addressed to Geralt of Rivia. Each letter has been impeccably penned and closed with a wax seal and the one sent to Geralt is no exception. It actually might be a little more eye-catching than the others with the intention of trying to make sure that his envelope isn't accidentally looked over.
Within the letter, he asks after his health as well as Jaskier's—despite not having met him yet because Aziraphale is nothing if not polite—and invites Geralt out for a nice lunch and a brief walkabout at his earliest convenience that day. It is short notice, he is well aware, but Aziraphale thinks that it could serve as a temporary but decent distraction. A little bit of fresh air and walking always did wonders for the heart and soul.
Although, a part of him does believe that he had been a bit too brash in his correspondence and that might not encourage Geralt to come meet with him. Nonetheless, he still waits for him on a bench in Haven, exactly where he promised that he would be.
Within the letter, he asks after his health as well as Jaskier's—despite not having met him yet because Aziraphale is nothing if not polite—and invites Geralt out for a nice lunch and a brief walkabout at his earliest convenience that day. It is short notice, he is well aware, but Aziraphale thinks that it could serve as a temporary but decent distraction. A little bit of fresh air and walking always did wonders for the heart and soul.
Although, a part of him does believe that he had been a bit too brash in his correspondence and that might not encourage Geralt to come meet with him. Nonetheless, he still waits for him on a bench in Haven, exactly where he promised that he would be.
v. roll the dice (Wildcard)
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no subject
Aziraphale thinks that he could handle the meowing, imagines himself considerably hardened to strange feline occurrences, but it's the laughter. Oh, it's the laughter. In a stunning display of pettiness, he swipes his hand across to where he'd placed Crowley's drink back in front of him. He cares little if it spills onto the table or onto Crowley himself.
He would deserve it.
He opens his mouth to chide him, closes it upon second thought, and then gestures to the notebook in a request for him to hand it over.
no subject
It's probably a blessing Crowley can't talk properly, as it saves Aziraphale some of the exaggerated dramatics that he might otherwise be subjected to.
A wave of Crowley's hand cleans up the desk, then another some of the drink that had dripped onto his clothing.
He holds up the notebook and pen, waves them temptingly. Oh, these? You want these? You're sure? Definitely these?
The second Aziraphale reaches for them, Crowley is well prepared to move his hand away a little further then tap his glass.
He was right. He's just saying. He was right about the drinks.
Nobody will ever hear the end of this.