nny | (no subject)

"I changed my brand of tea, last week."

"Well bully for you." Again, the faintly hurt expression, although Crowley couldn't for the life of him figure out why. It wasn't usually this easy to get under his skin.

"Did you even notice?"

"I – what? Tea's tea, angel. What does it matter which brand it is?"

"Precisely my point."

"You're doing this deliberately, aren't you? Thwarting's ineffective, so you've decided to send me completely 'round the – "

"You can tell the difference between wines, of course, although I suspect you choose more by price list than anything." He was continuing as if Crowley hadn't even spoken, and the demon suppressed a swift and entirely childish urge to push him off the tree stump. The thought of seeing him flailing among the moss and mud was getting ever more attractive. "Have you ever stopped and taken a moment to isolate the hint of woodsmoke, or the hint of citrus?"

"If this is a suggestion," Crowley threatened, waving a finger in Aziraphale's face, "that I stop and smell the roses, I will be forced to take drastic measures." He wasn't exactly sure of what the measures might be, just yet, but suspected they might involve matches.

*

Entirely gratuitous comment-trawling entry. I am seriously bored, here, and I'm supposed to be tidying my room only I'd rather be writing only there is guilt. If there are comments to answer, less guilt. See the logic?

You may have to look kinda closely.