Plants shopping with ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sohoangel
Apr. 18th, 2021 10:08 amThe few hours between their text conversation and four pm was just barely enough time for Crowley to pull himself together. He had allowed himself a good few minutes (hours) of wallowing in agony over what he had convinced himself was a disaster of a conversation. Honestly, autocorrect?? Well, Aziraphale wasn't exactly one for keeping up with technology, so there was a good chance he didn't notice. He hoped.
The rest of his time was definitely not spent Googling 'greenest indoor plants' for plants that would be easy to keep lush and vibrant and... No, don't go looking at his browser history, just trust him, that's not what he was doing. Er.
Regardless how he might or might not have spent his time, when four o'clock rolled around, Crowley pulled the Bentley up right on time, not at all like he had been driving in circles around nearby streets for the last twenty minutes because he didn't want to appear too eager**. Thankfully the majority of his nerves had been smoothed over by then, covered up and shoved down as usual.
He didn't bother to knock before entering the bookshop, despite the "Closed" sign on the window and the locked door. One of the post-Armageddidn't luxuries he reveled in, being able to show up unannounced, boldly in the light of day.
"Four o'clock, Angel!" He called out, by way of greeting, sauntering in through the door, moving in that way that made it seem like the bones and joints in his body were more guidelines really than actual, hard facts.
[ ** That statement is technically true. Crowley had, in fact, been driving around for twenty-three minutes, not twenty. ]
The rest of his time was definitely not spent Googling 'greenest indoor plants' for plants that would be easy to keep lush and vibrant and... No, don't go looking at his browser history, just trust him, that's not what he was doing. Er.
Regardless how he might or might not have spent his time, when four o'clock rolled around, Crowley pulled the Bentley up right on time, not at all like he had been driving in circles around nearby streets for the last twenty minutes because he didn't want to appear too eager**. Thankfully the majority of his nerves had been smoothed over by then, covered up and shoved down as usual.
He didn't bother to knock before entering the bookshop, despite the "Closed" sign on the window and the locked door. One of the post-Armageddidn't luxuries he reveled in, being able to show up unannounced, boldly in the light of day.
"Four o'clock, Angel!" He called out, by way of greeting, sauntering in through the door, moving in that way that made it seem like the bones and joints in his body were more guidelines really than actual, hard facts.
[ ** That statement is technically true. Crowley had, in fact, been driving around for twenty-three minutes, not twenty. ]
