A short while later, 'Dora comes skittering down the hall, her expression ecstatic. Anthony's on her hip, clad only in a diaper and a tee shirt. He looks a little disgruntled, like Mummy interrupted him in something.
Bernard blinks again, his mug forgotten in his other hand, and then his eyes slip shut.
There's a movement, almost nothing, against his hand, and he grins. "Hey," he says, low, bending close, heedless of Anthony's kicking feet by his head, "hey, who is that in there?"
Crowley wanders in during that blurred time between late afternoon and early evening - the time, generally, when Aziraphael finally closes the bookshop with a sigh of relief, and retreats for some private time to grieve for the day's losses.
As the door closes behind him, the demon casts a slightly suspicious glance around the bar; he doesn't see what he was looking for, but he does see Bernard at his table. Shrugging off his jacket, Crowley strolls over.
"Yeah, yeah, fuck off," Crowley replies, making himself comfortable. "I'll just keep my crazy theories about gun-toting lunatics as company for toddlers to myself in the future."
"Look, all I'm saying is that they know by now how to behave in here. If they try to make actual trouble then I'll throw 'em in the cells, no problem. But for now there's nothing to do but wait and see."
He shrugs, and Anthony wriggles, turning to wave at Crowley. "HI!"
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There's a movement, almost nothing, against his hand, and he grins. "Hey," he says, low, bending close, heedless of Anthony's kicking feet by his head, "hey, who is that in there?"
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As the door closes behind him, the demon casts a slightly suspicious glance around the bar; he doesn't see what he was looking for, but he does see Bernard at his table. Shrugging off his jacket, Crowley strolls over.
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"Well, well. If it isn't the evillest demon who ever demoned. Watch out."
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He shrugs, and Anthony wriggles, turning to wave at Crowley. "HI!"
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