The Known/Unknown Quantity

Chapter 97: Old Friends and Dead Acquaintances

Chapter 97: Old Friends and Dead Acquaintances

The booth was getting crowded. It was sticky. It was not, as the angel would put it, a place he would be seen dead in. Then he remembered a small pub on a Saturday not far back, and bit his tongue.

He could have chosen to acquire a chair and sit at the end. But soon he picked up on the amount of traffic that might be knocking about him. So, being shoved between the wall and Crowley wasn't as bad in comparison.

"The lighting is dreadful in here," he whispered in the demon's ear.

Crowley leered in his face. "Imagine if the lights were turned up."

"Hah, good warning." Still, he couldn't help but feel his nose shuffling about on his face as it tried not to smell the reek of sweat and spelt booze, and (ugh!) other things best not mentioned. "Are all the Tadfield pubs like this?"

"All the good ones," Shadwell growled, looking for Newt with their drinks. "Na don't go bringin' down the mood, sour puss. No one said you had to come, 'cept you."

"He's right,' Crowley laughed. "You know I'll only take you out to the 'betta places' as ya call them. And alone, for a reason."

"Yes, well, extraordinary circumstances and such," the angel grumbled, wishing he had more than one handkerchief, but knowing he could never have enough. He sighed. "I shall rough it out for you, dear boy."

Crowley softly pulled Aziraphale's earlobe and whispered," You have taken it rough several times, angel. And it wasn't for my sake."

"Must you!" the angel hissed through gritted teeth. But he didn't push. This was the first time Crowley had smiled without brittleness all evening.

And, admittedly, he had invited himself....no wait....had he? No, he had. Well, something like that.

But they were trying everything they could to keep Crowley in high spirits, and postpone his hunting for a little while longer.

The drinks arrived and he was jostled about once more. He looked about the group and thought, is this really about me? Are they trying to keep an eye on me?

"Crowley?"

The demon shoved a stout into his hand. "We are, angel."

"How did you know—"

"All over your face."

"...ah..." Suspiciously he eyed the mug, then shrugged and sipped. Crowley reprimanded him. "Here, not like that!" In demonstration, he threw back his head and took a long draw, managing to avoid the froth on top. Aziraphale rolled his eyes and explained that, no, he was just fine taking little sips.

"Come on, poof!" Shadwell cajoled. "Bottoms up!"

"No thank you, really."

"Look, even the kid's loosening up." Newt grinned under a mustache of foam. "He's not quite gotten the hang o' it yet."

Bending to peer pressure (aka Crowley) he straightened himself, tucked a napkin into his collar, readied, and poured it down under a chorus of "Hay-Hoo!"

He did not do so well as Newt. Crowley took care of the mess with the widest kiss he ever planted on the angel, flustering him into cussing. Shadwell made a face, Newt laughed hard, and Crowley gaphawed so much his body was shaking. The rest he wiped away with the napkin, jerked it out of the angel's collar, and lightly whipped him in the face. "Better, angel?"

"I have to keep reminding myself," Aziraphale answered shakily, "of my purpose here tonight. And speaking of which," he addressed Newt, "when is your 'contact' due to arrive?"

Newt shrugged. "Gary? He should be here already, playing billiards. He knows we're here."

Aziraphale flitted a finger between him and Crowley. He really was trying to move as little as possible. "And does he know about the two of us?"

Newt pursed his lips. Already the drink was working on him. "M'well. We never told him." He took another gulp, looking proud of himself for what he mistook for cleverness. "But someone did."

The angel exchanged glances with the demon. "Your other contact informed him."

Newt nodded emphatically. Shadwell turned to him. "Am I missin' somethin' here? I feel as if I'm out o' da loop, somehow."

"She's dead, Shadwell," Crowley blurted. "Newt's other contact is dead as a doornail."

"Whoa? You mean a spirit?"

"And Gary...." Crowley began, waiting for Newt to finish the sentence. The young man squirmed.

"WWWeeelllllll." Shadwell wouldn't release him from the glare. "Gary's like your Tracy."

"Oh no. Not another devil worshiper."

Aziraphale cleared his throat loudly, and Crowley bore his fangs at him. Whatever! He was happy.

"Another miscreant in league with the powers of darkness—"

"It's Gary! You know Gary!"

"I thought I did!"

"You are literally drinking with the snake that introduced sin into the world! How can you possibly judge!"

Shadwell waved a hand dismissively. "Him? Naw. He was just helpin' us out. Obeyin' orders, and not obeyin' in his cork-screwy way—"

Crowley and the angel watched this back and forth with some amusement. He retrieved the napkin and took another draw, this time avoiding the bubbles. Then he leaned into the demon and quietly asked, "Do you really think my newly acquired skill can be of help here?"

The demon told him," Tracy thought so. If not for us, then maybe this Ester." Crowley lowered his brow and shook his head. "I have a feeling we're not coming away empty-handed either way."

"That's the only reason you agreed to come along."

The demon chuckled. "Honestly, I was afraid to leave you in the hands of these two."

"Crowley....is it really just these two?"

The demon looked into his drink, then downed the rest, smacking his lips. "No. One more will be joining our little party. And staying abit longer."

"Who?" The answer set him a little off balance.

Crowley actually patted his knee before he told him. "Olivia."