The Known/Unknown Quantity

Chapter 55: Staking Claim

Chapter 55: Staking Claim

"So, this is how we do it?" Aziraphale held a small red pearl between his thumb and forefinger and rose it up to the light. "Lapis Philosophorum, the stone of legends."

With astonished reverence, he gingerly returned the stone to Anathema, who put it back into a small wooden chest along with several of its kind. Crowley regarded the stones with a vague snarl. "A gift from Galileo to the family, B.G.?" She nodded primly, and let the lid of the chest fall with a resounding click. "The same stone that created my poser."

"Not from the same source, I assure you," she stated sensibly.

Crowley's head swiveled back and forth, his nose wrinkling," But of course."

"You agreed to use them."

"I did."

"After everything, this makes you uncomfortable?"

Crowley sighed and relaxed back against his chair, another half-eaten apple dangling from his hand. "M'naw. But doesn't mean I have to like the idea of wearing it the rest of my life."

He bit into the apple and rose his chin, looking down his nose at them. And then, letting a wide oily grin split his face, decided to snap his fingers.

"Well, demon, it's more than what you wearing now," the witch stated flatly.

Aziraphale's face fell. "He didn't."

"Oh, he did," she uttered quietly, her eyes popping.

The angel colored heavily, and refused to turn around. "Really, Crowley! You're impossible!"

Laughter followed over his shoulder, and he heard the demon shift positions. The witch's eyes roved.

"Oh, good grief!" Aziraphale moaned. "He's dangling a leg over the chair arm, isn't he?"

"Whot?" Crowley called back jovially, "Getting in the buff was a part of the ceremony."

"Exhibitionist!" the angel hollered, then shook his head, and placed his fingertips wearily to his temple. "I do apologize, my dear. I have no control over him—"

"Bullshit!" Crowley laughed.

"—normally—"

"He's uncircumcised," she muttered, her brows raising," Figures." Then, rolling her eyes to Aziraphale, added," It bends to the right."

"Uh, um, yes. I've taken note of that."

"Practices a lot, does he?" Laughter again from the back of the room. The angel's shoulders rose and he refused to answer. Anathema shook herself and focused on the angel's face. "Whatever. If it puts him in a better humor, so be it."

"It doesn't," Crowley assured, his tone suddenly darkening," but who cares?"

"Hmm. Get on with it?"

"Yep," he reaffirmed, throwing his naked leg to the floor and leaning on his knees. His mood switch to sober almost instantaneously.

But the angel still wouldn't turn around, "Um, Anathema, he didn't, um, that is to say, he wasn't um..." he blinked at her helplessly. She shrugged.

"Saluting me? Even if he did, I'm not flattered. He's got the physique of a thin streak a piss, if you ask me."

The angel sagged a bit. "Oh."

"Although his tonker is impressive, so bravo, angel."

Aziraphale's mouth fell open. She smiled.