Aziraphale made a face. "That's a terrible game," he said, "it doesn't even make sense." He cocked his head up at Gabriel with a glare. "And if I was to make a guess based on instincts, I'd say you're out of the game entirely. You've Fallen."
Which raised the question of why he was praying. Shouting. Whatever. Aziraphale was clearly missing some crucial piece of this puzzle, and growing irritated again. Running a hand through his hair (he needed a comb, or something, it was ridiculous not to be able to miracle it tidy), he let all his breath out in a huff.
Ought he to gamble? If this one was truly out of the game, then it was unlikely that he posed much danger in the I'm-going-to-smite-you sense. Besides, what could Heaven do to Aziraphale from here?
Bugger.
"No, I'm not playing," he said, "but I will tell you anyway. I dreamed myself an angel, you see, Aziraphale, formerly of the Eastern Gate." He left off the titles. They embarrassed him, usually.
no subject
Which raised the question of why he was praying. Shouting. Whatever. Aziraphale was clearly missing some crucial piece of this puzzle, and growing irritated again. Running a hand through his hair (he needed a comb, or something, it was ridiculous not to be able to miracle it tidy), he let all his breath out in a huff.
Ought he to gamble? If this one was truly out of the game, then it was unlikely that he posed much danger in the I'm-going-to-smite-you sense. Besides, what could Heaven do to Aziraphale from here?
Bugger.
"No, I'm not playing," he said, "but I will tell you anyway. I dreamed myself an angel, you see, Aziraphale, formerly of the Eastern Gate." He left off the titles. They embarrassed him, usually.