The Angel Makes a Call (NFB)
After having supper at the clinic with Wilson, Aziraphale excused himself with the explanation that he had an important phone call that needed to be made. Wilson had been curious, but after the angel shook his head and promised he'd explain later, the young doctor had simply smiled and let him go.
Rather than go back to the apartment, he found a quiet corner of the park, well out of anyone's way, and leaned against a tree. For several minutes he just stared at his cell phone, then finally sighed and punched in a number.
"It's Aziraphale. I have a favor to ask," he said, when the call had connected.
"Yes, I do understand that. But it's a short list of people who could help me with this. I'll owe you a favor in return, but I expect this is something you'd find in your own interest as well."
"I need someone to get a person out of Below."
"No, not a soul. A living person."
"No, not yet. But he will be, and when he's gone there, he'll need to get back out."
"No, he isn't dead. It's a long story, and it really isn't mine to tell."
"Well, yes, that's it precisely. So you see why I need your help."
"No, I really need to be certain, and a 'maybe' won't do."
"Quite."
"Thank you, dear boy."
Then Aziraphale slipped his phone into his coat pocket, and with a relieved smile headed back to the apartment.
[ooc: Establishy, not for interaction.]
Rather than go back to the apartment, he found a quiet corner of the park, well out of anyone's way, and leaned against a tree. For several minutes he just stared at his cell phone, then finally sighed and punched in a number.
"It's Aziraphale. I have a favor to ask," he said, when the call had connected.
"Yes, I do understand that. But it's a short list of people who could help me with this. I'll owe you a favor in return, but I expect this is something you'd find in your own interest as well."
"I need someone to get a person out of Below."
"No, not a soul. A living person."
"No, not yet. But he will be, and when he's gone there, he'll need to get back out."
"No, he isn't dead. It's a long story, and it really isn't mine to tell."
"Well, yes, that's it precisely. So you see why I need your help."
"No, I really need to be certain, and a 'maybe' won't do."
"Quite."
"Thank you, dear boy."
Then Aziraphale slipped his phone into his coat pocket, and with a relieved smile headed back to the apartment.
[ooc: Establishy, not for interaction.]