Aziraphale had never been popular. Not that he had ever wanted to be popular, mind you, but he simply wasn't made for it. He wasn't athletic like his older brother Gabriel, he didn't want to join teams and make a lot of friends. He wasn't scary ambitious like Sandalphon, who was currently worming his way into law schools and lucrative internships. He wasn't strong like Michael, brave like Uriel or anything really that would have leaned towards him being someone who was well liked, well respected and not someone who was routinely picked on and mocked by idiots and louts.
No, he was just the slightly chubby bookworm with the overly christian parents who wouldn't let him sit in biology class or say swears. Something the other kids found hilarious. Even from a child, with a name like his and restrictions like his, it was no wonder that he'd been a target. He wasn't allowed to watch Harry Potter at the end of the year in primary when all the others in his class watched it (what with Harry Potter being the spawn of Satan and all), that certainly drew in some attention.
And that attention never really went away. Most people just didn't care about him much and that was fine by him, he didn't care much about others either. He had his books, his magic club, his various hobbies - he was a busy young man.
Unfortunate, the ones who took notice of him and did care, they were the real -- well, one might use the word 'bastards'. One might. Like now, for example. They chased him, they threw his stuff, they called him all manner of colourful things! He had no idea how their parents let them get away with speaking in such a manner.
"You--You real are out of line, you realise? That's a library book!" They would get in trouble if it got damaged! Were they crazy? "They have a policy!"
Not that they seemed overly concerned about said policy. He supposed he had to cut his losses there and just hope the book survived and no one made him run again. He couldn't abide running.
Turning his head, he looked at Crowley with his eyes slightly wide, not really sure what to do. He didn't much recall ever properly speaking to Crowley before but who cared? He needed help! "...Hello. Yes. Erm. Definitely mine." He wanted to go and get it but he didn't want to incur anyone's wrath so he simply held up his hands to them and tried to edge away. "Well, as you see, gentleman, I am needed so --"
Needed by Crowley? Well. Kinda. He had his book. And whatever he could use to get out of this.
"Yeeeah..." Crowley really drew out that reply, because he had to think of how much he wanted to get involved with this. He knew Aziraphale, but mostly he knew about him, and he didn't fancy getting recruited for his Jesus club or whatever. On the other hand, between jocks and nerds, he supposed his sympathies were more with the nerds. Especially someone like Aziraphale, who inspired the use of words like 'hapless', which he really didn't think was a word he had ever thought before.
"Let's get going, Aziraphale, we don't want to be late." He reached out to grab his arm - gently - and pulled him along. "Chop, chop. See ya later, fellas. Have a good game. Match. Whatever."
"We are swimmers," one of the guys said, in confusion.
"Shut up, Brad." Still, they let Aziraphale leave.
"Yes, exactly. Toodle-oo, gents." Aziraphale waved awkwardly as he stumbled along beside Crowley, looking over his shoulder at them as he let Crowley drag him a safe distance away from them. Once they had some space, Aziraphale sighed and reached out, taking the book from Crowley and letting out a small, lamenting sound. "Oh dear! They bent the corner! That's going to be such a fuss to return."
He sulked as he held it, inspecting it in his hand before finally, he looked up and remembered who had technically saved him. He dropped the pout and tried instead to look more -- well, he was aiming for casual. Normal. Maybe even a little cool.
"Ah. Yes. Thank you very much. I appreciate the help." He smiled at the rather dark and grim looking fellow. He never quite got the whole gothic look thing but he supposed it was nice in winter. Lots of layers and all. And dark was very warming in it's own way. "You are -- Crawley, yes?"
"Crowley. Nothing crawling like that." It was a bit strange, in a way. Knowing someone for so long and only now talking to him. Yet here he was, and he was afraid he might be a bit stuck with it for a while, because he had noticed those boys lingering. Seemed as if they were fairly persistent.
"Anyway, don't make a fuss. It wasn't a big deal." It wasn't as if he had gone out of his way or anything, he didn't need Aziraphale to be all that grateful. He didn't care about gratitude, after all. Not his vibe. "You gotta step up to idiots like that."
He looked Aziraphale over and shrugged. "Well. Try, at least."
"Oh no, I don't step up. I'm rather not the sort, you know? I'm not strong, I have no leg to stand on - one push and that's it. I'm down. I'm not very -- I never learned to hold my own. In that sense." Aziraphale explained as he chattered away, a little anxious and uneasy, checking over his shoulder because no, sadly, this was not the first time he'd been harassed and followed by those lads. "I hope to get by with my usual tactic of running, hiding and avoiding."
Hiding was his preference. He'd hide anywhere he could fit to get away from those brutes. He also got very good at hiding when at home - no one ever thought to check the garden shed.
As he walked beside Crowley, he continued to eye him up, just trying to work out what he could say to him that would keep him close until he had somewhere safe to hide. "I do appreciate your style, by the by. I always did like the whole gothic thing. Well, gothic literature. Not sure if that counts but I am fond. Of that. I don't know much about the rest--" He waved his hand dismissively to signify the rest. "The, you know, ... satan worship and the music."
"Ah, right. Yeah, don't worry, I keep the virgin sacrifices strictly to the weekends, so you are safe." Honestly, the most interesting thing here was that Aziraphale had read Gothic novels. He could only assume that a family that kept him from watching Harry Potter would also frown upon him reading, say, Dracula or Frankenstein, so maybe Aziraphale was a little rebel. Just in a decidedly bookish way.
He walked with Aziraphale, wondering whether he shouldn't just walk him home. Might be a nice thing to do. Not really his thing, niceness, but it wasn't as if he had to let anyone know. "I like your style too. Nice bowtie."
"Thank you! I rather think so too. I always think it's nice to look smart but I'm away not everyone agrees." He was one of the kids who voted for school uniforms, he just felt that a uniform kept everyone neat and tidy. It was quite nice. He moved his backpack forward and put the library book back inside, clumsy and awkward in the way he moved, almost walking into the wall instead of the doorway as he did it.
Once they were in the lobby, he slung his bag on and looked behind him, unsure if he was being followed or not but he was feeling pretty confident he could get most of the way home without running. "Well, anyway, thank you for your assistance, Crowley. Can I pay you back at all?"
He smiled pleasantly, not sure what one could give a goth for their efforts but most people who did things for him wanted cash so he expected it to go that direction. "With any luck, I shouldn't have them too hot on my heels."
"Where do you live? Maybe we can walk together." Honestly, Crowley did know, at least vaguely, where Aziraphale lived. Close to the church, he remembered from back when he still had to go to church. It was definitely nowhere where he had to walk to, but he couldn't just leave the boy to walk home alone, not with those jocks still, as he put it 'hot on his heels'. He felt responsible now.
Not that he planned on letting him know that. It wasn't really a favour if no one knew he was doing it. "So, what gothic novels have you read? I'm not really a reader, myself, of course."
Well. He did have A Reputation. "I like some Anne Rice though."
"I did like Interview with a Vampire but that's all I read, I'm afraid. The library doesn't have any of the others." Aziraphale replied casually, not really minding telling people like this what he had and hadn't read. As long as he didn't tell his family or friends of his family or anyone who knew or talked to Gabriel. And he doubted Crowley did. He could read whatever he wanted! As long as he didn't take it home and it was in the library. "I think vampires are fascinating, from a human point of view. I mean, the romancing of it is rather tragic, I suppose. Most people want to think of living forever while young and in their prime."
He also found the dark romance of it all rather thrilling. Of course, he had. Who wouldn't? Well. Hmm. Probably his parents. They would most certainly not approve but they didn't have to know, did they? "The last Gothic novel I read was Frankenstein, I was a bit late to that one but a riveting read nonetheless. Much better paced than Dracula or The Hunchback of Notre Dame."
"Some of the girls in school think they are vampires." Either that or they were just roleplaying so convincingly that Crowley had no idea whether they were insane or just pretending to be. Apparently a more difficult line to see than he'd have thoughts. "I don't know about living together though. Seems enough of a chore right now. Maybe once I'm done with high school."
It was supposed to get better then. Or so he hoped, anyway. More freedom. More choices. He was pretty sick of life just happening to him. "Who do you think is the monster in Frankenstein?"
"Well. The monster?" It seemed rather simple, didn't it? The monster was the monstrous one. He killed those peasants, the little girl, Elisabeth and God knows who else. He was quite tragic but quite brutal. "I mean I won't argue that Frankenstein a good man either but the monster is a monster. It's rather quite simple."
He shrugged his shoulders and then gestured ahead of them. "Sorry, I got distracted by books, it always happens. I should have answered sooner! We go this direction for my house. Near the church and across from the corner shop." He didn't live too far from the school or the church, the two places he went to the most often. To go other places, one would need friends and things to do.
"Is it? I dunno. He doesn't have morality, does he? The monster, I mean. He did those things, but he doesn't know right from wrong. I reckon if you don't know that what you're doing is wrong, it's not truly evil. Bad, but not evil. So Frankenstein is the truly monstrous one." Crowley finished his thought, then looked around suspiciously, just in case someone caught him waxing on philosophically about morality. With the Christian nerd, no less.
"I'll just walk you home, it's on my way." Why not. "We can walk together tomorrow too."
"Are you sure? I don't wish to take up your time..." Also he saw the way he looked around, making sure no one saw him. He probably didn't want to be seen with him. He understood that, he wasn't exactly a feather in anyone's cap - he was quite the embarrassment and not exactly a popularity helper. "Though I welcome anyone who wishes to discuss books with me. I don't often get to do that. Not many people talk to me and those that do, they don't read much. Or a very limited selection."
So the bible and books on God. Basically. All very dry and very dull. "But please, don't feel like you have to." For whatever reason he might. "I don't want to make you a target."
"I'm not a target. People don't target me." Which, Crowley figured, didn't strictly speaking have to be true and wasn't really either, but it kind of seemed to be working for him. That belief in no longer being a target. There were probably a lot of factors at work, such as how tall he'd gotten recently and the persistent rumour that some of his fellow goths really did sacrifice virgins and maybe even just some boys who couldn't last more than a quick handjob, but whatever it was, he didn't get targeted these days.
How true that would hold once he regularly walked home someone everyone called a faggot, time would tell. But he didn't care that much. He'd just keep on believing he'd be fine. "I don't care about people that much. Just don't need anyone thinking I read, right? Do I look like I read books?"
"Certainly not, no. You look like a right rowdy ol' rascal! No books in sight." Aziraphale cheered on, punching the air lightly, wanting to assure him that he didn't look like a reader. Oh no, he looked like a bad boy goth. Not that he thought a goth couldn't read but apparently, Crowley needed people to think that so he'd keep mum about whatever they discussed. "I won't exactly tell people what we talk about. No one really talks to me anyway. Unless it's exam week and they need to understand something."
Then people randomly came and sat with him, asked him things, got some free tutoring. He didn't mind. "If anyone asks, you're positively illiterate." With a bright smile, he almost bounced in his step as he walked beside the vastly cooler young man. "Though I still disagree. The monster is a monster. Even if Victor is a problematic fellow, the monster does more damage from spite and revenge than his maker ever did."
"Does he do it from spite or revenge or does he just lash out because he's cornered? Does he just copy the only behaviour he's been shown? He's nothing but kind before all of that happens. For months." Crowley was not sure why he found himself arguing morality with the church boy, but here he was. Maybe not the worst, he figured, showing someone like that a less black and white view. "Seems like there are at the very least a couple monsters in that book. Or maybe humanity is the monstrous concept."
Stood to reason. "Is the monster a monster because it's monstrous or because it's human? And where's the difference? Because revenge and spite are human emotion. Don't think snakes go around biting people because they insulted their mother."
"I suppose not. I just -- well, I guess I didn't think on it too much." Of course he didn't, he had a very simple view of life, drilled into him since his youth. There was one good thing to do and one bad thing to do. And he always did the good thing. Anyone who didn't do the good thing and did the bad thing was, therefore, bad.
Though he knew it wasn't that simple now he was older and breaking the rules himself. He, much like Crowley, saw the shades of grey but it was still very tricky to understand it all. "We did teach the monster badly. As a race. Humans have a lot of options and we always seem to pick the worst ones. Wonder why that is." Why, as a race, were they determined to rush towards mutual destruction together.
"Because we like to cock it up, I guess." Damn, now Aziraphale looked quite put out. Maybe it wasn't as fun to teach him all about how the world was dark grey at best after all, he felt the urge to fix it. Not that he could. "You aren't really like that though. Maybe you are more like an angel than human, huh?"
Well. He kind of looked the part, with the blond curls and with the way the sun was shining right at them at the moment. Crowley knew how much that would hurt if he looked at him without his glasses on. It was actually a little painful even so. "Don't worry, angel. I'm sure you'll pick better options."
"I'm not an angel. Don't be silly. I would like to think I make the right decisions but -- I don't know if I do." After all, he was walking home with a goth boy, talking about forbidden literature and he was pretty sure Crowley was likely infatuated with the devil so how good were his decisions really? "I never know what is right and what is wrong. I mean the basic stuff, yes, it's all very simple but it's those pesky little things that I..."
He trailed off, knowing that he probably shouldn't bore the first person his own age willing to be near him for an extended period of time. He likely didn't want to listen to Aziraphale's boring moral crisis. Then again, he did bring it up! So who knows? He wasn't sure so he stopped, it seemed safer. "I, uh, I like your glasses. They're rather... top-notch."
"I got like ten pairs of them." That wasn't even an exaggeration. "They were on sale. With those thingies on the side, had to get them." What were those thingies even called? Blinders? Maybe something that made him sound less like a horse? He'd stick with thiniges until he could think of a better word.
"I gotta wear them." Talk about boring topics. He had no idea whether Aziraphale knew that he had to wear glasses or not. It wasn't really all that important. Not as important as a good Christian boy with a moral crisis, anyway. "You can talk to me, y'know. About your decisions. I'll be your shoulder devil."
"I remember being told in assembly." Way back when, he had very vague memories of being told to not tease or steal the sunglasses. He didn't quite know what was wrong, he didn't understand then and now he was older, he wasn't brave enough to ask but he assumed something to do with sunlight intolerance. Perhaps lupus? He wasn't certain. "I think of all the issues you could have, it's nice to have one that makes you look cool. The only corrective things I ever had was an eye patch and it wasn't half as cool." It did fix his lazy eye as a child but it didn't win him any cool points.
"It's a very kind offer. I-I don't know if I have that much to talk about. In regards to my decisions. I just make them. That's the beauty of being a person in our wonderful world - all those choices." And if God was giving him them, who was he to ignore all those opportunities. He smiled softly at Crowley, however, quite taken with his friendly nature. "But I'm always happy to talk. I don't often get to with people my own age."
"Yeah, it's all right now. Got these glasses." The cool ones. Not the ones before that made him look like one of the blind mice. "I don't know, eye patches can be pretty cool. Pirates. Arrgh!"
He cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. All right, that had been dorky. Thankfully, no one was here to overhear. Just Aziraphale, who was smiling again. Good. "I wish we had more choices. Maybe that comes with age." Though he remained unconvinced of that. Maybe he could find a way though.
"You live here, right?" He gestured at the house as he came to a halt. "I'll stop here, then your family won't spot me."
"Probably for the best. They'd be concerned. They're not very open minded when it comes to alternative dressing." Aziraphale clarified as he looked ahead to his home and let out an almost lamenting sigh at the idea of heading inside. He was enjoying time with Crowley and besides, he didn't fancy an evening of listening to what wonderful things Gabriel achieved today while he was there, paling in comparison.
"Thank you for the walk. It was a pleasure." He held out his hand to shake Crowley's in thanks, unable to help himself. In some respects, he was an old man at heart. "Perhaps tomorrow we can discuss Dracula. I have some strong issues with that book, let me tell you."
"Can't wait to hear them. Not that I've read it." Crowley was amused, but he'd taken Aziraphale's hand anyway, because he hadn't even thought about it. So very formal. Which was maybe why he couldn't help the cheeky grin, bending down and lifting his hand up, so he could kiss his hand. Ever so formally.
He straightened up, in one sense of the word, and tipped his non-existent hat. "See you tomorrow. I'll escort you again."
"Oh, Crowley!" Aziraphale scolded as he pulled his hand away, giving him a very stern expression. "None of that. Come now." Rolling his eyes, he turned away and shook his head, tutting over the pushy goth who kissed his hand. Such a silly man. Strange man too.
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No, he was just the slightly chubby bookworm with the overly christian parents who wouldn't let him sit in biology class or say swears. Something the other kids found hilarious. Even from a child, with a name like his and restrictions like his, it was no wonder that he'd been a target. He wasn't allowed to watch Harry Potter at the end of the year in primary when all the others in his class watched it (what with Harry Potter being the spawn of Satan and all), that certainly drew in some attention.
And that attention never really went away. Most people just didn't care about him much and that was fine by him, he didn't care much about others either. He had his books, his magic club, his various hobbies - he was a busy young man.
Unfortunate, the ones who took notice of him and did care, they were the real -- well, one might use the word 'bastards'. One might. Like now, for example. They chased him, they threw his stuff, they called him all manner of colourful things! He had no idea how their parents let them get away with speaking in such a manner.
"You--You real are out of line, you realise? That's a library book!" They would get in trouble if it got damaged! Were they crazy? "They have a policy!"
Not that they seemed overly concerned about said policy. He supposed he had to cut his losses there and just hope the book survived and no one made him run again. He couldn't abide running.
Turning his head, he looked at Crowley with his eyes slightly wide, not really sure what to do. He didn't much recall ever properly speaking to Crowley before but who cared? He needed help! "...Hello. Yes. Erm. Definitely mine." He wanted to go and get it but he didn't want to incur anyone's wrath so he simply held up his hands to them and tried to edge away. "Well, as you see, gentleman, I am needed so --"
Needed by Crowley? Well. Kinda. He had his book. And whatever he could use to get out of this.
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"Let's get going, Aziraphale, we don't want to be late." He reached out to grab his arm - gently - and pulled him along. "Chop, chop. See ya later, fellas. Have a good game. Match. Whatever."
"We are swimmers," one of the guys said, in confusion.
"Shut up, Brad." Still, they let Aziraphale leave.
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He sulked as he held it, inspecting it in his hand before finally, he looked up and remembered who had technically saved him. He dropped the pout and tried instead to look more -- well, he was aiming for casual. Normal. Maybe even a little cool.
"Ah. Yes. Thank you very much. I appreciate the help." He smiled at the rather dark and grim looking fellow. He never quite got the whole gothic look thing but he supposed it was nice in winter. Lots of layers and all. And dark was very warming in it's own way. "You are -- Crawley, yes?"
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"Anyway, don't make a fuss. It wasn't a big deal." It wasn't as if he had gone out of his way or anything, he didn't need Aziraphale to be all that grateful. He didn't care about gratitude, after all. Not his vibe. "You gotta step up to idiots like that."
He looked Aziraphale over and shrugged. "Well. Try, at least."
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Hiding was his preference. He'd hide anywhere he could fit to get away from those brutes. He also got very good at hiding when at home - no one ever thought to check the garden shed.
As he walked beside Crowley, he continued to eye him up, just trying to work out what he could say to him that would keep him close until he had somewhere safe to hide. "I do appreciate your style, by the by. I always did like the whole gothic thing. Well, gothic literature. Not sure if that counts but I am fond. Of that. I don't know much about the rest--" He waved his hand dismissively to signify the rest. "The, you know, ... satan worship and the music."
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He walked with Aziraphale, wondering whether he shouldn't just walk him home. Might be a nice thing to do. Not really his thing, niceness, but it wasn't as if he had to let anyone know. "I like your style too. Nice bowtie."
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Once they were in the lobby, he slung his bag on and looked behind him, unsure if he was being followed or not but he was feeling pretty confident he could get most of the way home without running. "Well, anyway, thank you for your assistance, Crowley. Can I pay you back at all?"
He smiled pleasantly, not sure what one could give a goth for their efforts but most people who did things for him wanted cash so he expected it to go that direction. "With any luck, I shouldn't have them too hot on my heels."
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Not that he planned on letting him know that. It wasn't really a favour if no one knew he was doing it. "So, what gothic novels have you read? I'm not really a reader, myself, of course."
Well. He did have A Reputation. "I like some Anne Rice though."
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He also found the dark romance of it all rather thrilling. Of course, he had. Who wouldn't? Well. Hmm. Probably his parents. They would most certainly not approve but they didn't have to know, did they? "The last Gothic novel I read was Frankenstein, I was a bit late to that one but a riveting read nonetheless. Much better paced than Dracula or The Hunchback of Notre Dame."
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It was supposed to get better then. Or so he hoped, anyway. More freedom. More choices. He was pretty sick of life just happening to him. "Who do you think is the monster in Frankenstein?"
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He shrugged his shoulders and then gestured ahead of them. "Sorry, I got distracted by books, it always happens. I should have answered sooner! We go this direction for my house. Near the church and across from the corner shop." He didn't live too far from the school or the church, the two places he went to the most often. To go other places, one would need friends and things to do.
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"I'll just walk you home, it's on my way." Why not. "We can walk together tomorrow too."
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So the bible and books on God. Basically. All very dry and very dull. "But please, don't feel like you have to." For whatever reason he might. "I don't want to make you a target."
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How true that would hold once he regularly walked home someone everyone called a faggot, time would tell. But he didn't care that much. He'd just keep on believing he'd be fine. "I don't care about people that much. Just don't need anyone thinking I read, right? Do I look like I read books?"
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Then people randomly came and sat with him, asked him things, got some free tutoring. He didn't mind. "If anyone asks, you're positively illiterate." With a bright smile, he almost bounced in his step as he walked beside the vastly cooler young man. "Though I still disagree. The monster is a monster. Even if Victor is a problematic fellow, the monster does more damage from spite and revenge than his maker ever did."
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Stood to reason. "Is the monster a monster because it's monstrous or because it's human? And where's the difference? Because revenge and spite are human emotion. Don't think snakes go around biting people because they insulted their mother."
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Though he knew it wasn't that simple now he was older and breaking the rules himself. He, much like Crowley, saw the shades of grey but it was still very tricky to understand it all. "We did teach the monster badly. As a race. Humans have a lot of options and we always seem to pick the worst ones. Wonder why that is." Why, as a race, were they determined to rush towards mutual destruction together.
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Well. He kind of looked the part, with the blond curls and with the way the sun was shining right at them at the moment. Crowley knew how much that would hurt if he looked at him without his glasses on. It was actually a little painful even so. "Don't worry, angel. I'm sure you'll pick better options."
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He trailed off, knowing that he probably shouldn't bore the first person his own age willing to be near him for an extended period of time. He likely didn't want to listen to Aziraphale's boring moral crisis. Then again, he did bring it up! So who knows? He wasn't sure so he stopped, it seemed safer. "I, uh, I like your glasses. They're rather... top-notch."
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"I gotta wear them." Talk about boring topics. He had no idea whether Aziraphale knew that he had to wear glasses or not. It wasn't really all that important. Not as important as a good Christian boy with a moral crisis, anyway. "You can talk to me, y'know. About your decisions. I'll be your shoulder devil."
He smiled, hoping it'd be taken as a joke.
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"It's a very kind offer. I-I don't know if I have that much to talk about. In regards to my decisions. I just make them. That's the beauty of being a person in our wonderful world - all those choices." And if God was giving him them, who was he to ignore all those opportunities. He smiled softly at Crowley, however, quite taken with his friendly nature. "But I'm always happy to talk. I don't often get to with people my own age."
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He cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. All right, that had been dorky. Thankfully, no one was here to overhear. Just Aziraphale, who was smiling again. Good. "I wish we had more choices. Maybe that comes with age." Though he remained unconvinced of that. Maybe he could find a way though.
"You live here, right?" He gestured at the house as he came to a halt. "I'll stop here, then your family won't spot me."
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"Thank you for the walk. It was a pleasure." He held out his hand to shake Crowley's in thanks, unable to help himself. In some respects, he was an old man at heart. "Perhaps tomorrow we can discuss Dracula. I have some strong issues with that book, let me tell you."
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He straightened up, in one sense of the word, and tipped his non-existent hat. "See you tomorrow. I'll escort you again."
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Still. It was nice. He hadn't hated it at all.