(no subject)
Crowley has a new mp3 player; Aziraphale isn't suitably impressed.
"What?" asked Crowley as he reluctantly took off his headphones.
"I said, I can't imagine you'd want my company when you have your little treble mmp player."
"MP3 player, angel."
"And all your music has been stolen from musicians, I suppose."
"Of course it has." He could tell from the angel's tone that Aziraphale probably had an impressive stash of pirated music on his decrepit, old computer. Not that it would do any good to say so as Aziraphale would deny it or, if pressed further, say that most of it was in the "domain of the public" and Crowley couldn't possibly expect him to support anything as corrupt as the music industry, could he?
"Could I have a look?"
"All right, but you're going to make it out of date the second you touch it."
Aziraphale ignored him. "It's awfully small."
"Well, I was going to strap a phonograph to my back, but that's a bit last week."
"I don't understand what you--"
"See, a phonograph is this machine that--"
"I know what a phonograph is, thank you. I just don't see what it has to do with a week ago."
"It's out of style."
"Ah. Well, I'm sure you'll be throwing this out in a day or two."
Crowley grinned. "Have to keep up with the times," he said.
"Yes, your car is certainly 'with it'. Do people still use that one?"
"No. And my car is a classic. It's certainly aged better than you."
"I can only hope to look so good when I'm as old as it is."
***
Aziraphale just didn't understand--he'd proven that with his jealous remarks about the Bentley. Crowley simply had a delight for and a skill with technology that the angel would never have*.
Let the angel keep his outdated furniture and his scratched-up old records. Crowley was quite pleased with his new toy--it could sit in the car without changing into anything else, and Hell still hadn't found a way to contact him on it.
For those reasons he'd started listening to it in the car with the headphones on. There were probably some rules against it, but most traffic laws were for other people. Crowley, securely blocked out from the screams, shouts, and swearing of any future pedestrians, started the car and pushed play. His smile faded as he skipped to the next track and then to the one after that.
Hissing softly, he scrolled through the songs. The track listings were exactly the same, but every single song had turned into "We Are the Champions." He couldn't tell if Aziraphale was just a collosal prat, or if that was the only Queen song the angel knew.
*Ignoring, of course, the fact that Crowley had only recently learned why all his appliances had tails.
"What?" asked Crowley as he reluctantly took off his headphones.
"I said, I can't imagine you'd want my company when you have your little treble mmp player."
"MP3 player, angel."
"And all your music has been stolen from musicians, I suppose."
"Of course it has." He could tell from the angel's tone that Aziraphale probably had an impressive stash of pirated music on his decrepit, old computer. Not that it would do any good to say so as Aziraphale would deny it or, if pressed further, say that most of it was in the "domain of the public" and Crowley couldn't possibly expect him to support anything as corrupt as the music industry, could he?
"Could I have a look?"
"All right, but you're going to make it out of date the second you touch it."
Aziraphale ignored him. "It's awfully small."
"Well, I was going to strap a phonograph to my back, but that's a bit last week."
"I don't understand what you--"
"See, a phonograph is this machine that--"
"I know what a phonograph is, thank you. I just don't see what it has to do with a week ago."
"It's out of style."
"Ah. Well, I'm sure you'll be throwing this out in a day or two."
Crowley grinned. "Have to keep up with the times," he said.
"Yes, your car is certainly 'with it'. Do people still use that one?"
"No. And my car is a classic. It's certainly aged better than you."
"I can only hope to look so good when I'm as old as it is."
***
Aziraphale just didn't understand--he'd proven that with his jealous remarks about the Bentley. Crowley simply had a delight for and a skill with technology that the angel would never have*.
Let the angel keep his outdated furniture and his scratched-up old records. Crowley was quite pleased with his new toy--it could sit in the car without changing into anything else, and Hell still hadn't found a way to contact him on it.
For those reasons he'd started listening to it in the car with the headphones on. There were probably some rules against it, but most traffic laws were for other people. Crowley, securely blocked out from the screams, shouts, and swearing of any future pedestrians, started the car and pushed play. His smile faded as he skipped to the next track and then to the one after that.
Hissing softly, he scrolled through the songs. The track listings were exactly the same, but every single song had turned into "We Are the Champions." He couldn't tell if Aziraphale was just a collosal prat, or if that was the only Queen song the angel knew.
*Ignoring, of course, the fact that Crowley had only recently learned why all his appliances had tails.