Gioachino Rossini had the right idea
Who: Crowley and Aziraphale
What: Sushi
When: Friday 13th
Where: Crowley's room
Rating: PG
Aziraphale's conversation with the Doctor had left him feeling distinctly disconcerted; it was one thing to hear Crowley's dry teasing about worlds not related to the ineffable Plan, it was quite another to actually come face to face with them.
A world that wasn't created by God? A reality where He did not exist? It just seemed utterly impossible, and it chilled him right through. He was an angel, a creature of the Lord created for the sole purpose of worshipping Him and obeying His will. His nature was set in stone, since millennia ago at the Gates of Eden, he had not changed. Perhaps become a little more sophisticated at blending in with the human occupants at Earth, and he had certainly developed a perchant for a good nature documentary, but overall he was still what he had been created to be.
If there truly were other worlds out there like that, then perhaps Crowley were right and this one was devoid of His presence as well... and if He were not here, and the Plan was distinctly effable, then what was his purpose?
It was enough to make him crave a strong drink or seven, so by the time he actually arrived at Crowley's door, he was well and truly sloshed. Still holding a half open bottle of cheap red plonk (not wanting to risk spilling anything of decent vintage), he knocked clumsily on the door.
"C-Crowley!"
What: Sushi
When: Friday 13th
Where: Crowley's room
Rating: PG
Aziraphale's conversation with the Doctor had left him feeling distinctly disconcerted; it was one thing to hear Crowley's dry teasing about worlds not related to the ineffable Plan, it was quite another to actually come face to face with them.
A world that wasn't created by God? A reality where He did not exist? It just seemed utterly impossible, and it chilled him right through. He was an angel, a creature of the Lord created for the sole purpose of worshipping Him and obeying His will. His nature was set in stone, since millennia ago at the Gates of Eden, he had not changed. Perhaps become a little more sophisticated at blending in with the human occupants at Earth, and he had certainly developed a perchant for a good nature documentary, but overall he was still what he had been created to be.
If there truly were other worlds out there like that, then perhaps Crowley were right and this one was devoid of His presence as well... and if He were not here, and the Plan was distinctly effable, then what was his purpose?
It was enough to make him crave a strong drink or seven, so by the time he actually arrived at Crowley's door, he was well and truly sloshed. Still holding a half open bottle of cheap red plonk (not wanting to risk spilling anything of decent vintage), he knocked clumsily on the door.
"C-Crowley!"