The Devil's Nest, Tuesday Evening (05/29)
After a very brief and handwavy stop at the clinic to flail a little at Wilson about the events at the post office, Aziraphale bustled over to the Nest to get it ready for the night. Unhappily, it seemed all his fellow bartenders were decidedly clean sorts. Which meant he couldn't really work off his flailing through cleaning. Well, he could, but it seemed silly to do so.
Oh well, there was always rearranging the liquor bottles. Aziraphale decided that translating all the names of the different kinds of alcohol into the Greek alphabet and then arranging them accordingly sounded like a nice plan. And one that would keep him busy.
He would occasionally pluck at his shirt and peer inside the collar, though, to inspect the signature on his bicep he didn't dare yet remove and see if maybe it had faded of its own accord. And then he would turn bright red, and flail a little more, and busy himself with the bottle arranging again.
[ooc: I am on SP tonight, so please feel free to mod your service if you prefer.]
Oh well, there was always rearranging the liquor bottles. Aziraphale decided that translating all the names of the different kinds of alcohol into the Greek alphabet and then arranging them accordingly sounded like a nice plan. And one that would keep him busy.
He would occasionally pluck at his shirt and peer inside the collar, though, to inspect the signature on his bicep he didn't dare yet remove and see if maybe it had faded of its own accord. And then he would turn bright red, and flail a little more, and busy himself with the bottle arranging again.
[ooc: I am on SP tonight, so please feel free to mod your service if you prefer.]