(no subject)
It's late. Or, possibly, early. It depends, rather, on your point of view. Whichever it is, it's certainly dark in the Tonks-Wrangle flat as Aziraphael silently opens the front door. Quiet, too, but somehow an entirely different silence to that of an empty shop which is somehow almost deafening.
He knows this place well enough to know his way, to know what he can do to make the least possible noise, but there's really nothing that will help the gentle creaking of the study door.
Aziraphael curls himself into a corner of the sofa, and waits for the house to wake up around him.
He knows this place well enough to know his way, to know what he can do to make the least possible noise, but there's really nothing that will help the gentle creaking of the study door.
Aziraphael curls himself into a corner of the sofa, and waits for the house to wake up around him.