The Known/Unknown Quantity

Chapter 161: Thursday's Children

Chapter 161: Thursday's Children

Time passed, and the demon discovered that even his life wasn't impervious to change.

It was an early morning in March. Soho didn't wake so much as repopulate its streets with freshly preoccupied people, caffeinated or otherwise.

                Flowing with the crowds, and sometimes against it, was an odd couple that folks in these parts were used to seeing at any old hour. More now as of late.

                No one really paid them much attention. The one in pale dress was a fixture. He was fussy, but kind, and might own a store in the area. According to the food proprietors, he was a generous customer, and if you saw his dark friend by his side you'd bet they'd pop into tea somewhere to make the money rain.

                This morning it rained outside. The lighter man held an umbrella over his dark friend as they glided through the crowds. But the man in black still seemed damp. Hands dug in pockets, hips swaying as he sauntered forward, something seemed a bit off to those used to seeing him. His steps fell heavier, faster. He was a man in motion with nowhere to go.

                At a small nondescript eatery one of them paused and closed the umbrella while the other kept going like a wound toy. The paler man called to his friend, worry in his voice, and his dark friend suddenly halted and looked around, as if in a daze. He swept back around and to the upraised hand of his concerned partner, who ushered him into the diner, after which that hand gently placed itself on the back of his neck.

"Ah, I'm sleepwalking!" Crowley moaned, throwing himself into a seat. Aziraphale watched him with owlish eyes as he sat down across and politely smiled at the server coming to them.

                Servers always moved fast at his site.

                The angel ordered for both of them. The demon didn't complain.

                "Hang over?" Aziraphale asked, hopefully.

                Crowley was splayed out on the table, leaning on his elbow with his hand covering his glasses. At one point, more from gravity than muscle contraction, his head slid underneath. His glasses stuck to his palm. "'Fraid not."

                A long line formed between Aziraphale's eyebrows. "Perhaps...we should take a break, dear boy, from the travels? Oh, thank you!" The server sat their drinks down and a small plate of nibblets before he whisked away to wherever. Crowley regarded the food blandly, not recognizing any of it, and shook his head.

                The angel sipped, then put his cup down. "You're running yourself ragged."

                "Got a translation yet?" the demon barked sourly, knowing what the answer would be. Aziraphale just sighed.

                He rose his cup, hid behind it, and quipped," Do I still have my wings? Have any of the children been accosted? Has that THING dared to show its false face in all this time?"

                The demon dully stared at him as he spoke, then stretched backwards, his arms above his head, only to slump back and look out the window. "Ah, I'm just tired, Aziraphale. Tired of wondering. Tired of waiting."

                "Tired of worrying, dear."

                The demon just pulled out his phone and started messing with it.

                Aziraphale leaned in, finally taking a few bites of the food. "We've covered so much ground, Crowley. And these things take time! Preliminaries and legwork."