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[a_fell]

*it can be assumed that it's something heavy on the tubas, that he's singing to himself. It seems to involve far too large an amount of 'om-pom-pom's to be anything else.

There is also the occasional 'tiddly'*

Comments

[nitro_is_ace]

There might also be an occasional snicker from the direction of the semi-industrious Ace. There's something about an angel trying to sing a tuba solo that just gets her going.

[a_fell]

*Aziraphael looks at her sidelong and increases the volume of his poms, slightly*

[nitro_is_ace]

She has to snap her pocketknife back to keep from cutting off her own fingers, since laughing and carving really aren't terribly mixy things.
Idly she wonders if there's a tuba section in heaven. If there isn't, there should be.

[a_fell]

*Of course there is. Dead Salvation Army bands*

[nitro_is_ace]

Good grief.

Ace tucks her... well, to call it her work in progress, she'd actually have to be doing something to it other than poking at it, wouldn't she? Her hunk o'wood then, gets tucked under the chair and she makes her way over to the bar.
"Lo, how goes the smiting business?" It's either that or asking after the health of his tubas, and she's not quite that mad. Not quite. Yet.

[a_fell]

Oh, I'm not so much with the smiting, you know. I was more into the thwarting side of things, but Crowley's rather far away to be thwarted with any real efficiency, and dinner at the Ritz isn't the same on your own. So it's more... benevolent influences, currently.

[nitro_is_ace]

Ace blinks.
"Who's Crowley, and why does he need thwarting at the Ritz?" She stops for a second, but she's never been very good at the self-muzzling thing. "I just knew there was a reason that the hoity-toity of London kept eating over-priced food. Live entertainment."

[a_fell]

Crowley is Crowley, I'm sure you'd know him if you saw him. Nice looking chap, sunglasses, tends to appear at the weekends. And the Ritz is more of a distraction, really. Which counts as thwarting, since he can't be doing anything too terribly if I'm right there stealing his pudding.

[nitro_is_ace]

Ace feels as if she's missing something. Again. Curse being short, things just keep flying over her head.
"What could he possibly do in the middle of the Ritz, with or without pudding stealing?" It's a crowded place. With security types in neatly pressed suits pretending to be patrons. There's plenty she could get up to, in such a situation (creating an off-menu flambe is just the start), but... honestly.

[a_fell]

Oh, I don't know.

*he waves a hand vaguely*

Some sort of tempting, no doubt. But the Ritz appears to have been declared a no man's land, of a sort, by general agreement.

[nitro_is_ace]

"Tempting?" Ace decides she is really missing something, something probably very big. It's a rather annoying feeling, actually.