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Date: Monday, 12 April 2010 00:07 (UTC)
Aziraphale was drinking. And unhappy. Both of these things Crowley registered as he peered warily in at this 'Easter' affair the angel had set up. Normally the Flash Bastard wouldn't be caught dead at such an event--or any event with 'festive decorations' for that matter--but the problem was that Aziraphale very well might be, literally, caught dead at an open gathering, if he didn't have someone sensible, paranoid, and cautious looking after him.

He sauntered in casually, looking suave and collected as always, as if he were WAY too cool to be there but couldn't help but stop by to scoff. "Death wish, angel?" he purred.
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Lower Tadfield Safehouse

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