✎23. [voice]

[tartaned]

What on Earth am I doing here? Taking liberties with one's person like this is extremely rude.

...Even if I have shown up in a rather nice library. I'd still appreciate knowing what's going on. I have - you know, responsibilities to get back to. As soon as I finish this book.

[ooc: Sorry I was gone so long, guys, but I'm back! And Az here has

Comments

SPAM... You don't get a choice. :|

[painhumbles]

[AND LO. DID AN ARCHANGEL APPEAR IN THE LIBRARY, LOOKING THOROUGHLY UNAMUSED. NOT COOL, BARGE. NOT COOL.]

Az. Bro. We need to talk.

I ACTUALLY ALMOST LEFT IT OPEN JUST FOR YOU, BB <3

[tartaned]

[starts from his book, turning toward him] Gabriel, would you please not--

[Pause. There's a moment as his indignity furrows into a frown.] For some reason you feel like the wrong Gabriel.

<3333

[painhumbles]

[THERE IS A MOMENT WHERE GABRIEL IS ALL HOPEFUL AND THEN... Way to knock the wind out of his sails.

...Now excuse him while he takes it back BY GETTING ALL UP IN YOUR PERSONAL SPACE.]

Oh, I'm the right one. You just haven't figured that out yet. Did you hit your head while you were having your little Barge siesta?

oh right [SPAM]

[tartaned]

I - no, I didn't, [he answers, still frowning. He's stuck between wanting to cover his tracks and act like a good little servant of Heaven, as he usually would when his superior came to visit (which was not often) - and, on the other hand, being absolutely peeved. But there's something, just something, nagging at him that doesn't seem quite right...]

I don't even know what the Barge is. Do you mean to say we're on a ship? Kind of an odd place for a prison, if you ask me.

[SPAM]

[painhumbles]

Bingo. [He draws back slightly.] Look. I don't make the rules. I just work here annnd so do you. We're Wardens. We help the hopeless and the redeemable by any means necessary, all while getting jerked around by our Fearless Leader, the Admiral. It's the stuff Saturday morning cartoons are made of.

[SPAM]

[tartaned]

Well, I certainly hope I wouldn't be an inmate, or you either, [says Aziraphale testily, finally setting his book down and tucking his reading glasses into his shirt pocket.] I don't mean to sound ungrateful for the explanation, but this is all very strange. For one thing, I get the queerest sense that I already know this - that I already know you.

And I feel like I should be worried. [raises his eyebrows in invitation of a response]

[SPAM]

[painhumbles]

You've been here before. You know me. We're bros. [He gestures between them.] I mean, a lot of the time? Your memories just come back gradually. You'll be fiiine, Az. Like anyone could really forget this place.

[SPAM]

[tartaned]

[He mouths the word 'bros' distastefully, not because he resents the implication but because the word is so horrific.]

I do have, erm, one question. Are we... undercover, as it were? And, make it two - are you alright? [Looking at him in evident concern now; yes, Aziraphale is starting to remember feelings and associations, and he's already worried about Gabe.]

[SPAM]

[painhumbles]

Undercover? Uh... No. I'm pretty sure everyone on this rocker knows we're agents of on high... Well, you might be. I'm... Kinda... Retired.

[He pauses and knits his brow.]

Yeah? ...Why wouldn't I be?

[SPAM]

[tartaned]

I don't know, I just feel worried, [he confesses, thinking on it.] I believe things are starting to come back.

[eyes him suspiciously] Hmm. You do regularly get up to trouble, don't you?

[SPAM]

[painhumbles]

[EXCUSE GABRIEL'S RIGHTEOUS INDIGNANCE.]

Oh come on. Me? Trouble? [SCOFF.

...Okay, Az probably isn't gonna buy that.]

Not regularly

[Pause.]

Look. I got shoved off the Barge, myself, for a few days. Great trip. Loved seeing those old apocalyptic fires burning. Nothing happened, though.

[SPAM]

[tartaned]

Apocalyptic fires? [After he gets over being aghast, he just sounds stern.] Sit, drink something, and tell me what I've missed.

I'm apparently the librarian, aren't I? Surely no one would mind if we had a drink.

[SPAM]

[painhumbles]

[Eyeroll]

Please. Don't be a drama queen, Az. It's my apocalypse, not yours. And no one cares. Trust me. We've done this before.

[He pauses.] You're gonna have to whip up that orange thing you always give me. I keep trying, but I never get the consistency right.

Re: [SPAM]

[tartaned]

I care, [he said firmly.] I don't precisely remember why, but I do. I'll... see what can't be done, about this orange thing. Now sit.

[SPAM]

[painhumbles]

[He sits... Well, more like plops.] Oh, you'll remember. There ain't a doubt in my mind. If anything, I'll manage to knock something lose one of these days.

[SPAM]

[tartaned]

[absent hand wave and, oh look, there's a can of the orange stuff] Is that it?