nightlogs | TOIL AND TROUBLE ❄ PART 1

TOIL AND TROUBLE ❄ PART 1

The streets of Burgess under attack. They fly through the air on broom sticks, spreading in all directions, under the direction of the three who offered them something special: immortal life.

And at the expense of children, no less!

The Grand High Witch has made her orders clear. All witches are to cause chaos and draw the attention of those who might stop the Sanderson sisters from recovering the book and brewing their potion. The dark being that explained things to them made it very clear: after this All Hallow's Eve, when dawn comes, all of them might disappear or be drawn back into their worlds.

The Sandersons may be doomed but even for the other witches, being drawn away from such a precious possible source of immortality, one that will allow them to drain the life from children, is unthinkable.

They need to draw the attention of these Guardians they're expecting to see. They need last longer than the dawn.

And so the witches descend, casting broomsticks aside as they land, their cackling scaring the children. In areas where they land, the children go running in fear into their homes - but tugging on their parents' arms and trying to draw attention to the problem outside is to no avail.

For one, the adults cannot see the witches outside - they're myths in this world, after all. And two, a powerful spell has been cast on the area causing them to mindlessly continue their normal activities. Parents are staring at the TV like zombies, or washing dishes over and over, humming to themselves and not answering. Leaving their children only one recourse: hiding in their homes or trying to run away and hide somewhere else.

The Witches are fortunately able to be pegged as witches on sight, taking off their massive hats and wigs to reveal bald heads, wearing their frumpy outfits and sensible shoes. They have wide mouths and jagged, rotten teeth, nails like claws, and smile wickedly as they snap heir fingers to magically open the locks on doors.

They are delighted to have such extra power right now, and so many extra allies, and such free reign tonight to find all the ways they can possibly eradicate disgusting little children.

PROMPTS

a) Work, Witch

The children run and are chased through woods and parks in their little Halloween costumes. Or after finding that their parents are locked up and frozen, mindless like zombies, they lock themselves in their rooms and hide under beds and closets, sometimes grabbing siblings, cousins, or the nieces and nephews of much older siblings, and making them hide with them. Some silently cry themselves as they hold baby family members in their arms, trying to hush them and keep them quiet so they won't be found.

The old ladies wander through houses that don't belong to them, ignoring the vapid and nonreactive parents, sniffing and following the scents of the children to try to find them.

"Ooh, dearie. No need to hide. I'm just a dear sweet old auntie you've never met yet. Why don't you come out and introduce yourselves? I have chocolate."

The Guardians are going to have to take this fight house to house, stopping the witches at the doors or fighting them inside. Despite the guise of older ladies, the witches are young and spry, able to do damage with their claws as well as their magic.

b) Sanctuary

A local rec center has nothing going on today. They did their Trunk R' Treat event the Friday before and close earlier on alternating week days. Since it's a community rec center and not a specifically child-oriented place like a school, it's the perfect place to funnel some of the rescued children and teens.

They need to be brought here where they're safe. When there, they need to be soothed and entertained, given food and drinks, and need to be told why they have to wear sound-canceling headphones in case Sarah starts to sing her song.

Those who aren't used to children will be a little challenged here in having to do the most important part of a Guardian's job, in convincing the children they're taking them to safety, and that they're safe while there. They need to be prevented from panicking and running.

Those who truly struggle at it still can find something useful to do. Salt and some of the Pole's supply of dream dream sand needs to be poured in massive protective circles around the edges of the basketball court. The court fortunately doesn't have windows, it's in more of a large warehouse-like room, but it does have doors that need to be reinforced.

Fortunately, it only has to be a staging area, Bunny is able to tunnel the children to temporary refuge in the Warren. But doing them one by one by one would be quite the effort. It's easier to collect them together in the rec center, temporarily keep them safe, then tunnel them there in groups.

c) Grocery Run

The rec center refuge needs a lot of supplies. The Warren has food Bunny has grown and water, but they still need that staging ground for the kids to be gathered first. Right now the basketball court is surrounded by a ring of protective dream sand and salt - but the salt ring could afford to be thicker. They could also use more ear plugs and noise blocking ear phones. Toys, too, to calm the younger children.

Fortunately, human adults just can't comprehend their wares just walking out the door on their own and entirely glaze over what might be causing it to happen. Unfortunately, witches seeing myths carrying armfuls of salt canisters and toys are kind of noticeable.

For those who need a breather, they may be able to catch a quick chat with an ally without interruption. For others, it will be the grocery store run from hell. At least stores have lots of produce to throw, or shelves to knock down on enemies.

c) WILD CARD

Got something else in mind? Go for it!

OOC DETAILS
❅ Plot Parts: This part of plot is open to all characters, and players can have their characters be in more than one prom[t. Part 2 of plot will have several plot parts with sign ups, such as talking Halloweentown into helping, the plan to sing and blast speakers to drown out Sarah's song, etc. Player sign ups for the 2nd part of plot will be limited to 1 character per player, with each player only allowed to pick 1 prompt. Part 3 of plot will go back to letting all characters in on it, in taking the Sandersons down.

❅ NPCing: The mods won't be npcing in this particular part, but players are free to npc any witches. Handwave the levels of magic you want them to have, ranging from magical fireballs to transformation to stealing a lock of hair and improvising doll proxy they can injure to induce injuries. Spells can require chanting as needed (such as if you want to have a spell interrupted.)

❅ Enemy damage: Players can have their characters successfully kill the villain npcs. There just will be more of them, they'll just keep coming.

❅ Status effects: Witches have magic and that means curses and other injuries the myth healing might not instantly fix. (Magical burns, etc.) You can play with this as you want. Spells and effects can either wear off in a short amount of time, wear off when the plot is over when day breaks, or need magical healing intervention at the Pole. Player choice.

❅ Long-term effects: Players who go with some kind of status effect for a character can optionally have long-term consequences from it if they like.

❅ Environment: Feel free to manipulate the environment. You have a whole town to work with. You absolutely can hotwire a car to run over a witch.

❅ Experimentation: We'd like to encourage people to experiment! Obviously ask other players if they're down first, but it could be fun to do something other than 2 person threads, like maybe 2 PCs banding together to rescue an overwhelmed 3rd.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Crowley shoots a look over his shoulder at Aziraphale that's the demonic equivalent of sticking his tongue out.]

Just 'cause I don't spend hours writing frou-frou diary entries...

[His penmanship is fine!! Aziraphale is so rude.]

It's a Don't Look Here sort of warding. Figured it'll keep the witches away for as long as possible. [There's too many of them and they'd probably be able to overpower a basic kind of blocking spell. Keeping them from finding it in the first place seems smarter.] If you've got any suggestions, I'll take' em, it's been a while since I've done this kind of nonsense, and the shop's always been well warded.

Frou-frou? [ No manners. Honestly. Frou-frou! Tsk.

Why has he been romanticizing this relationship in flowery prose across the ages at all? Ugh. When there are less pressing issues at hand...! Aziraphale is going to forget about that until they're in the middle of some unrelated separate argument months from now. So. ]

I'll run down the list. There ought to be a few ways to help shore things up. [ Without accidentally, say, evicting Crowley from the gymnasium or blistering him. ] Not going to be quite up to snuff compared to the bookshop, I'm afraid. A Heavenly embassy, this is not.

[ There's no office here to run the paperwork through even if he were still-- welcome. To do so. ]

[Crowley gives him a look that almost directly translates to I said what I said, and he will stand by his rude comment.]

So long as you don't banish me at the same time.

[Sometimes they share a braincell in a positive way, which is always a nice change.]

S'just a stop gap, anyway, this place, so we don't need to get too carried away.

[ Divorced. Immediately. ]

If I can't manage that much, I ought to lose warding privileges.

[ Not that it wouldn't be a little bit funny later, if he'd accidentally banished Crowley. In less dangerous circumstances. Such is life. ]

It's the principle of the thing, isn't it? Cast as wide a net as we can muster?

[ Aziraphale snaps his fingers to summon a bit of white charcoal, because he has to commit to the aesthetic above all else. There isn't all that much to tack on, really; a touch here, an additional symbol there. Crowley's taken this more than seriously enough. (Not surprising.)

Two ancient beings from before the rollout of time as a concept draw on the walls, news at 11. ]

[The sheer audacity of Aziraphale to match his own aesthetic instead of blending in with Crowley's handiwork??? He's making such a face about it, but only because he can.]

As big a shield as we can muster might be a better way to put it.

[Upsides to Aziraphale also drawing on the walls: the wards are going to be better.

Downsides to Aziraphale also drawing on the walls: it takes him closer to where a handful of kids are talking in hushed whispers. One of them points at Crowley, telling the others that's him, he's got wings, I saw them. There are some titters of disbelief, because even if witches are real, a grown man with wings is apparently hard to swallow. The boy scowls at them, arguing back, if they weren't real, how come I got blood on me from when the witch blasted them with a spell?

Checkmate, atheists.

And RIP to Crowley's attempts at keeping this a secret. He doesn't even get to overhear the conversation; he's too busy with the warding.]

[ The dual aesthetics comingling is so pretty, though. Get on board. ]

Pedant. [ An accurate pedant, admittedly. But that's pot and kettle. Aziraphale only really says it because it's the sort of thing he can get away with sprinkling some fondness on.

The ups and downs that this day is taking continue to ravage the landscape, unfortunately. He's having a nice enough time drawing on walls with Crowley, and enjoying having all his little feelings about being on the same side and working towards the same goal and protecting people together, in the open, again. He's thinking his little thoughts about it. Despite the other restrictions and dangers to consider, it sometimes feels like being stepped out of their own reality is lending a lot more-- freedom, to do these sorts of things. Test the metaphorical waters.

And then his lovely time not thinking about things he doesn't like thinking about, overhearing what sounds like the exact sort of sweet story he can tease Crowley about later, flips like so many omelets.

Aziraphale is so normal about this. He is positively livid with reasonable calmness. So secure in his utter lack of offense or anxiety that he breaks his charcoal in half. Not going to shout in front of frightened children. Just going to swallow some feelings. So normal and relaxed. ]

Need to borrow you for a minute. Once we've finished here.

[ See! Normal! Not optional whatsoever, but very normal. If he were a human he would not have a fucked up jaw from constant clenching whatsoever. ]

[Crowley, who isn't quite close enough to hear the conversation that's about to get him murdered, is having a nice enough time drawing on walls and mentally doing the math on how he's going to deal with his stupid wing, once all this is over. It's a sort of background ache, not anything he can't handle.

The tone of Aziraphale's voice, though, startles him a tiny bit, and when he turns to look at him, the expression on his face is troubling, too.]

What's happened? [Oh, wait, there are kids everywhere.] We can — [With a gesture towards the door.] — if you want. M'just adding extra layers at this point.

[The basic wards are done, he's just shoring up the defenses, as it were.

And whatever Aziraphale needs to talk about seems more important.]

[ Aziraphale glances to the door as Crowley gestures to it, then lets his gaze skitter back over the rest of the room in general before responding. A cursory check at best, the sort that comes of someone starting to look things over properly before realizing oh, that's right, it isn't only the two of them trying to handle this situation. There's quite a few Guardians on deck doing just that.

Which does at least make his follow-up polite smile™️ slightly more genuine than not. ]

Better to handle this sooner over later, I think. Yes. [ Local angel erring on the side of deliberately cagey to both spare a public scene and in the hopes that it will keep Crowley from connecting any dots long enough to, in fact, handle what may need handling.

The immediacy of Crowley's concern would normally be very reassuring and gratifying. The way that he immediately locks in, somehow. Maybe it's still those things a tiny bit, but it comes in step with irritation. What's happened? Oh, indeed. What's happened. Because it must have just happened, surely, nothing else could possibly have happened worth mentioning or noting or asking for help with to Crowley somewhere in the past few hours. Not a child wearing his blood as a fashion statement, certainly.

Aziraphale makes a beeline for the door, pausing to hold it open for Crowley once he's through. ]

[Handle this?? Handle what? What on Earth is being handled?????

Crowley is both confused and worried, but really, he's been in that state often enough that it's familiar, so he can wrap up what he's doing, set the charcoal down by the wall, and follow after Aziraphale.

He ducks through the door after him, using a little miracle to close it and ensure they aren't followed, then turns his attention to Aziraphale. He doesn't say anything, just tilts his head in obvious question.]

[ So far so good. A rousing success, even. Here they are. He'll handle it. It's going to be fine.

On one hand, he tells himself, it wasn't so bad that Crowley was incapacitated, clearly. On the other, Crowley is a demon. He's done time in Hell, who could even say how reasonable his standards are for these things?

No. Yes. Sooner over later. ]

Were you planning to tell me you took an injury?

[ :) ? ]

Ah.

[That's all he manages for a moment, his mouth opening and closing a few times as he tries to work out what to say next. Clearly no point denying it, because the phrasing makes it obvious that Aziraphale is already well aware that something happened.

In another plane of existence, Crowley's wings shift restlessly and he winces a little.]

When we got back to the Pole and I needed a hand making sure it's healing alright?

[The answer sounds like a question, but the question is was this the correct response so that you're not mad at me?

He kind of already knows that isn't good enough, though.]

[ A question from a true place of inevitability.

It speaks unfortunate volumes. ]

I see. [ Interesting!

He shouldn't be-- stroppy about this, probably. Really. It doesn't, it doesn't send a very nice message from friend to friend if Crowley is hurt and the first thing Aziraphale does is throw a fit that has to be managed. Doesn't engender much likeliness that Crowley will tell him next time, does it? Probably not. Probably make him want to try harder to skip over the fuss.

If the shoe were on the other foot, that's how he'd be thinking, after all. ]

Not the answer I'd prefer to hear. [ Aziraphale works his jaw. Swallows. ] Well. Spilled milk. I'd rather have a look before we're thrust back into active danger, if it's all the same to you. I'm sure you understand.

[It's not that he doesn't know why Aziraphale is annoyed; he knows Aziraphale cares about him. It's just that there's been millennia of not being able to show any of that care, not in the ways that matter. It's been fights about holy water and hissed arguments about the danger they're both in, but that's a more broad danger, not the simple reality of inhabiting a physical body that can be damaged.

He can't help but think back to Aziraphale's reaction to finding out he'd been discorporated, and something uncomfortable twists in his chest. There's a tiny part of him that wants to be gleeful about it, despite the obvious anger that's being directed at him about keeping it secret.

You do care, he wants to crow. He wants to ask if this is what love is, if that's why it bothers Aziraphale so much, but bites his tongue on that, too.]

S'just a flesh wound. [Don't quote Monty Python right now.

Don't be a teensy bit smug while doing it, either.

But he does turn his back to Aziraphale and carefully unfurl his wings, doing his best to ignore the pain so he doesn't earn more fussing. The spell that hit him acted more like a chemical burn than a blade, so there really wasn't that much blood. Mostly singed feathers and burnt skin on the scant flesh around the humerus bone. It's not a nice looking wound, but at least no bone is visible and it's not actively bleeding.] The damaged feathers'll have to come out, but I'd rather not do that here.

[Both because it'll fucking hurt and because it's safer not to leave feathers lying around. They can dispose of them more carefully at the North Pole.]

[ Insufferable, your honor. Maybe later Aziraphale will find relief in Crowley still having the strength to be so insufferable.

For now he just rolls his eyes and dutifully waits for Crowley to acquiesce him. Which he does, of course, that wasn't in question.

Aziraphale's very sympathetic wince may be lost to time, unwitnessed. He gets as close a look as he can without touching anything. Sort of looks like touching would be the worse option right now. ]

Yes, better to hold off on that bit for now. [ More practical that way. Safer. Although it does limit how much can be done now. ] Hold still.

[ Oh. Right. He's pissy, not uncivilized. ]

Please. Just going to--

[ Going to hoverhand however much of a heal he can manage for this predicament. Don't mind him. ]

[It would be a lie to say he hasn't thought about some of this, about the intimacy of Aziraphale being this close to his wings, although the typical fantasies don't involve a semi-serious injury.

Didn't involve Aziraphale getting bossy with him, either, but that's not actually a bad thing.]

'Course, angel.

[He doesn't realize until it's happening, what Aziraphale is trying to do, but he can feel the tingle of a miracle and an itch in his wing that speaks of holy magic. There's no change in the wound, though.]

It's not gonna work, I don't think. I've already tried.

[ The only real net positives right now are seeing Crowley's wings up close again (points docked for clear and painful injury, unfortunately) and Crowley obligingly doing as he's told.

Not that Aziraphale supposes he'd have moved much anyway. It's the principle of the thing. The illusion of feeling slightly more in control of an upsetting truth. For as long as it takes that particular illusion to go tits up.

He makes an affirmative sound in the back of his throat, a wordless sort of it doesn't seem to be working, no. Homophobic of that witch. ]

Never hurts to get a second try in. [ Did not heal to try, either. A real stalemate. Aziraphale valiantly holds back from saying something like "oh, your poor feathers." He thinks it very, very loudly, though. ] We'll just have to work out a patch job for now.

[ Whatever that means. ]

[The setting they've found themselves in is rather surreal, now that Crowley actively has his wings out and Aziraphale is actively trying to heal them. He doesn't know if he's ever been inside a community center before, and the sound of children talking filters through the door, adding an unfamiliar background noise to the whole mess.

It's all very strange, making him feel a bit like none of this is actually happening.]

It's alright, really. [It isn't a lack of trust, he's sure Aziraphale's 'patch job' would be perfectly fine, he just doesn't want him to fuss.] Save your energy for the kids, m'sure plenty more will be turning up with scrapes and bruises.

[ It's not alright, is the thing. Crowley's audacity is unparalleled. ]

Scrapes and bruises can be sorted with a charming plaster and a gold star for bravery. [ A sincere one, obviously, because given the circumstances, all these children are in fact being very brave. ] You do understand how this particular branch of occult harm sits slightly higher, as priorities go.

[ Anything less than a full healing leaves Aziraphale room to plan to fuss. Maybe he needs to own that. He pats Crowley's non-damaged feathers a couple of times. Mostly for his own sake. But he can pretend it's more about giving a bit of comfort, too.

It's just.

Frustrating. Worrying. Lots of things. Not being of any use for this one specific thing that happens to be more important than most other things would be. ]

'Save your energy.' [ Pah! Harrumph! Indeed! All that rot. ] I've always got energy. You're ridiculous.

[The thing is — the thing is that this truly doesn't feel real, and then the other thing is that he's still a bit giddy from coming to the realization that Aziraphale cares! about him! and probably not just because Crowley is the only person he knows in this strange world.

It makes him a bit more inclined to ignore the pain I'm favor of being quietly delighted and a little bit ridiculous.]

What if I want a charming plaster and a sticker?

[Local demon wants to be told he was very brave, actually. Maybe not in semi-public, though, since he might cry about it a tiny bit.

He does startle slightly when his feathers are touched, a lift of his head that would've resulted in him turning to look at Aziraphale, if he hadn't stopped himself at the last second. He doesn't want to scare him off, if touching is allowed, so he rolls his shoulders and visible relaxes his wings, hoping that communicates consent, since he suspects drawing too much attention to the touching will make it stop.]

You're the ridiculous one. Unless you've got a field med kit hidden in those pockets, there isn't much to be done. [Hm. That might be a bit dismissive? He should fix that.] But I promise I'll let you fuss about it once we're back at the North Pole, yeah?

[What a sacrifice he's making.]

I can give you both, but I'm not certain your feathers would thank you for the plaster. [ Making the removal process later even more unpleasant with a cute band-aid? (Yes it would be cute.) It could happen.

Not drawing too much attention to the touching is very appreciated, though. Aziraphale hesitates for a moment when Crowley lifts his head anyway, just in case. Sort of waits for the yea or nay, because it doesn't strictly occur to him until after the fact that this possibly isn't on the approved list. The touching without asking. Not really the same as, as a hand on the elbow.

It seems fine. It's probably fine.

He won't keep him long.

They both think they're the horse girl in this situation but they are both the skittish horse. This is the economy they've crafted. ]

How very generous of you. [ So noble to allow it. If that has a double meaning that's his business. ] Don't think I'll forget to hold you to that.

[ He'll forget more in a day than people remember in a month, but for spite? He'll hold onto I promise I'll let you fuss until the end of time if he has to. ]

What, you haven't got feather-proof adhesive?

[There's also the point that they could just remove the plaster with a miracle, but teasing Aziraphale like this is a little more fun, especially when he's being a bit grumpy about something.

He can't stay mad at Crowley for getting injured if he is, instead, annoyed at Crowley for being generally annoying. This is the most profound logic in the universe.]

Oh, you know me, the epitome of generous. [So wry, so much sarcasm, so very much not acknowledging the fact that he is actually very generous, but only where Aziraphale is concerned.] I'll be the very best patient you've ever had.

[Don't make it weird, Crowley.]

Lovely. Your wit survived. [ Annoying and being annoyed are love languages. Aziraphale cannot stand his favorite person.

As conversation tones go, he supposes this is one of the least worrying where Crowley is concerned. Very flippant. ]

I'm afraid the title of best patient is already taken for the night. You're welcome to give me your second-best behavior.

[ The feather-touching resumes, in the meantime. Not quite preening, not quite grooming, but a secret third thing: Crowley's wings taking on extra duty as fidget toys. A rhythmic gentle neatening, in the same way a person might channel anxiety into straightening out someone's collar or tying someone's scarf for them.

If Aziraphale can't heal them and it's not safe to remove the damaged feathers right now (which it isn't) and he is, in fact, lacking in comprehensive field kits, then he's at least going to be certain the intact areas around the damage are as comfortably smoothed back down as he can manage. In short order. Crowley normally keeps his wings so tidy that taking longer than a minute or so would be ridiculous.

A bit of selfishness at work, too, if Aziraphale is honest with himself. Having the excuse. It's easier, most of the time. Toeing the line of reaching out with some physical gesture. Technically having a reason for the reaching beyond simply wanting to do it, depending on the gesture in question.

If he takes Crowley's arm while they happen to be walking together, or occasionally reaches for his hand, or tries to make an occult injury at least slightly more tolerable until they can care for it-- that's just simpler. Isn't it? Doing without trying to say? It's still a step. And if he can feel a tiny bit like he's actually done something helpful right now, he'll be that much more settled, so. The benefits are really all his. ]

Gosh, Aziraphale, don't sound so broken up about it.

[It wouldn't be the first time his wit has survived a fall.

He decides it's probably not the best idea to say that, though, both because Aziraphale always gets a bit funny when he talks about capital-f-Falling, and because he doesn't need to know that there was also a fall involved in this situation.]

Who's the best patient? I'll just make 'em disappear so I can keep the title.

[Everything is going according to plan, Aziraphale is annoyed at him and doesn't sound quite so worried anymore, and he's touching his wings. That last part is sort of an odd thing to deal with, on account of it being incredibly nice, just in a way that makes Crowley want to both vibrate out of his skin and simultaneously take a nap. It's soothing, the repetitive motion, the gentle fingers carding through his feathers, but there's no denying the fact it's an almost insanely intimate thing for Aziraphale to be doing.

And Aziraphale must understand that, right? This isn't some idle motion, it has to be deliberate. He has to know that Crowley wouldn't let anyone else in the universe do this, especially not when injured. It would be so, so easy for Aziraphale to do some permanent damage to him right now, or to at least cause him an incredible amount of pain, and Crowley trusts that he won't.

He still suspects that saying something will shatter this very fragile moment, so he sighs instead, a soft, quiet thing as some tension drains out of his shoulders. It does help, too, that the feathers are sitting a little straighter, no longer pulling at the skin around the wound.

It's nice, really. It's only a shame they can't stay here all night.]

[ Everything going better than expected. Aziraphale has been allowed a privilege that's more of an actual privilege than letting him fuss again later.

Gratifying, really, to know he's on the short list. His diary is going to be hearing about this for years. ]

The best patient was a stuffed rabbit, so I'd really rather you didn't incite a riot by taking action against it. Dire ramifications.

[ The last thing they need is a political stuffed animal assassination right now. Goodness. ]

I'm-- I'm afraid this is as sorted as we can get you for now. I know it isn't much. [ Because of some stupid witch who should know better. Aziraphale can feel as guilty as he likes about not being able to do more here, as long as he's very quiet about it.

No one has ever suffered as much as him running out of viable reasons to keep quasi-grooming Crowley's wings, though. Not even Crowley, who is literally wounded at this moment. Obviously. ]

[Aziraphale may have accidentally discovered the best way to get Crowley to not be a dramatic bitch, because he would have done a big, over the top groan at that information, but instead chooses not to, since it might risk dislodging Aziraphale's hands from his wings.

This is a brand new experience and he immediately decided it was the number one priority.]

Fine, fine, I'll wait a few years until the rabbit's fallen out of favor. Then I'll take it out.

[Talking like he's planning the assassination of a beloved politician and not like he wants to steal some child's toy because Aziraphale deemed it a better patient than him.

He's so normal all the time.

Less normal about how disappointed he is, when Aziraphale acknowledges the one fact that neither of them wanted to acknowledge.]

It's a sight better than it was before. [He's using his indulgent tone, so he may be full of shit and just saying that to make Aziraphale feel better.

Hard to tell.] I know where to come if they ever end up a mess.

[Sort of just. suuuuper casually tacking that on, the unspoken offer? request? for Aziraphale to touch his wings in a situation that doesn't involve injuries.

Just for fun. Or something.]

oh nooooooo what a tragedy

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