nny | Yes, more Good Omens.

“Bob and I are going for a picnic this weekend, Crowley. Would you like to come along?”

Crowley stared at the phone receiver, entirely lost for words. Aziraphael had lost his mind, it would appear. He was talking about his car as if it were a person- more than that, as if it were some kind of date. It sounded as if Crowley was being invited along to meet a friend’s new partner, and Aziraphael clearly wasn’t the only insane one in this relationship because Crowley was almost jealous of the fond tone in his voice.

He shook his head. He’d have to go along, if only to make sure that the angel hadn’t entirely fallen off the edge.

“Alright, angel. I’m coming with you. I’m bloody well coming with you.”

“Good,” said Aziraphael, and the genuine pleasure in his voice warmed Crowley slightly.

“But if you make me call it Bob I’ll be forced to kill you.”

*

Crowley fumbled in the glove compartment for a tape. There was a whole pile in there, each one in its own case- no empty cases, no bits of apple, no map of Denmark. Apparently the universal laws of glove compartments didn’t apply to minis owned by angels.

Bach, Beethoven, Brahms… Aah, John Tavener. He pushed it into the cassette player and then paused a moment. He looked at Aziraphael.

“How long have these tapes been in here?”

The angel shrugged. “I’m not sure. A month or two?”

Crowley shuddered and pressed play, wincing preemptively as he prepared himself for Tavener’s “I Want to Break Free.”

Soft choral music filled the car, and Crowley glared at the side of Aziraphael’s face.

“What?”

***

*facepalms*