The Known/Unknown Quantity

Chapter 80: In the Grip of Malice

Chapter 80: In the Grip of Malice

"Sometimes," Crowley complained to the angel," I wish your imagination had a map."

"I know approximately where I am—where it is," Aziraphale exclaimed weakly, his eyes searching the landscape."

The demon looked at him, exasperated. "Approximately? All your little screenplay said was 'Yonder over the hill.' We've been over 7 hills, angel!"

"Well," his friend stammered, fishing for a plausible explanation, "maybe I'm hiding myself from myself—hiding it from myself, alright?"

Crowley grumbled. "Bugger this for a lark." He plopped his butt down on the slope and drew his knees up, shoving his head in his hands. Aziraphale threw out his jacket and rested down beside him.

After a moment, he managed," I do apologize for the inconvenience, dear chap."

Crowley rose his head. "Dear chap?" His irritation was growing. "When have you ever called me dear chap?"

"1929? After you explained that the amount of stockholders jumping from balconies was just yellow journalism."

The demon took the blade out of the scabbard and wagged it at him, "You're out of sorts, you are. You need to stop this 'me-it' nonsense."

Aziraphale carefully pushed the blade away with a scowl.

Crowley continued. "And stop hiding it behind the next hill! We're not climbing every mountain here!"

"Ugh, none of that."

"Well? I read the whole of your production notes, or did you forget? Five times I might add!" The blade tersely made way back to its place at the demon's side. He waved his hands in the air dramatically. "By now I've got the gist, and it's fairly straight forward!" He kicked the ground, adding, "Not like a b-plot's ready to jump up from the switch grass or any rubbish like that!"

The angel just rolled his eyes and looked away.

The wind came through, tousling their hair. After a few heavy breaths, he looked back and watched the angel's downy curls shiver in the breeze.

Off-handedly, he said," I liked your hair long."

Aziraphale slowly turned around. "You did, didn't you?"

"Think you'll ever, dunno, try that look again?" Crowley rose his brow line inquisitively.

The angel smiled. "On a special occasion, maybe."

They got up, and looked around.

"You know what will happen," the angel reminded him quietly, "when we come up on the scene."

"I know." Well, he knew what he would see, anyway. What his reaction might be he kept to himself.

"There, Crowley." The last word ended on a soft note, a habit Aziraphale had whenever the obvious but hard to grasp made itself known. And suddenly, there "it" was.

The demon's first impression was a node of whiteness sitting in a dip between the hills. It wasn't close enough to perceive details. But the effect of that pale stillness, resting like a stone in the ever-shifting sea of grass, dropped the demon's jaw. "You put him-it there, just now, didn't you?"