The Known/Unknown Quantity

Chapter 63: Out and About Part 1

Chapter 63: Out and About Part 1

A little dumbfounded, but keeping enough wits about him not to warrant injury, Crowley walked thru the night with the small, ice-cold box. He regarded it suspiciously, fighting the urge to idly tumble it in his hands. Possibility it could explode. Or play tinny music. Either would be just as bad.

Really, he ought to be wearing gloves, if held within was exactly what he thought it was...

The shop was silent. It was sad silent, if there is such a thing. The demon strided the perimeter of the walls with his nose up. Heaven, the angel had been everywhere, pacing his anxiety out, settling at his desk. His scent was so thick in the air he must have fretted for hours. Shit.

                The demon vacantly traced his fingers across all the surfaces: the chair, the books, all the little papers and magnifying glasses and manuscripts and correspondences. Finally, his hand landed on his own globe. Where everything else had a pulse of warmth and energy, this was cold to the touch. Which meant instead of touching it, the angel had merely glared at it, perhaps imagining all sorts of things happening to Crowley as he walked the streets.

                Otherwise, it would be as hot as an iron...

Crowley's globe enjoyed a new temporary home on Aziraphale's desk. Not that he didn't have plenty of antique ones on hand. But antique doesn't equate to accurate (good grief, they didn't want to end up in the middle of the Atlantic!)

Besides, the angel was sentimental about the thing.  And as a show of whimsy, he'd give it a good spin then cover his eyes, and let his finger fall where it may.

                Crowley sat splayed out and watching him. Withholding commit but frowning. Today the finger landed in the Atlantic anyway. Aziraphale turned around and shrugged helplessly.

                "Is there even an island there?" the demon grumbled, throwing a leg over the chair's arm.

                "No," the angel admitted, giving it another whirl.

                "You know, we have time. We have all the time in the world."

                "Just changing things up a bit. We're still staying in each country for the same amount of time."

                "But not the cities. Just a city a day. Ridiculous," Crowley threw the other leg up, and began sliding down in a laying position. There was very little room but he folded into it. "You're spinning other things besides that globe, by the way.."

                The angel's back was to him, but he watched the shoulders raise a hair. Then, quietly, Aziraphale asked. "Webs or wheels?"

                "Oh, definitely webs." Crowley's feet kicked the air lazily. "Naw, not the right metaphor. You're not trying to catch anything. Evading, perhaps."

                A soft chuckle. "Perhaps. For a moment I thought you were accusing me of trickery."

                "You're capable of it."

                "...ah..."

                "I'mean. Do we really need to run, Angel? We're protected now."

                "But the thing is still out there."

                "Don't I know it," Crowley growled under his breath. Now the angel turned around, studying the demon's weird posture. Crowley's head lolled toward him. "I think you know I know, moving the bookshop before I can hit the streets. That's very controlling, Aziraphale. Who are you trying to keep from the hunt? The homunculus, or me?"