demonicmiracle | (duplicity) ic contact

[No one's ever been honored to fool around with him before, and he'd be more amused by the choice of words if this weren't serious.]

We're not, uh, exclusive. Not here, we both know it's a bit tricky to maintain in a place like this, and I was sort of seeing someone, before he got here. He said not to break it off, so I've got to assume he's alright with me being with other people, as long as we're honest with each other about it.

[It isn't at all how they'd be back home. Crowley hates the idea of sharing Aziraphale with anyone, and has very little interest in other humans, but it's not really practical in Duplicity.]

Then be certain you are honest.

[it's decisive as she can make it and she pops the last piece of scone in her mouth before reaching for the ties at the side of her shirt. it buttons all down the front and those would be a mess for her, but the problem with standing for too long and either not drinking continuously and/or having a serious conversation is that the exhaustion sets in.

especially if it's getting late. so, while she wants to focus on the slender ties holding the bottom of the shirt closed, she sways where she stands, a consequence of lowering her gaze. she lifts her head too fast to compensate and has to put a hand out to steady herself.

only then does she realize:]

I may have had quite a bit to drink tonight.

[Crowley steps forward easily, settling his hands on her waist to help her steady herself, not wanting her to go toppling sideways in his kitchen.]

Why don't we get you tucked into bed, hm? You can sleep off all this alcohol, and we'll chat in the morning about what you want to do with all the... other things.

[He's not about to let anything happen tonight, when she's drunk enough that she left her crown behind in a crowded bar.]

[she lets him steady her, the first person to put his hands on her like so in a very long time and, for a moment she panics, even though nothing else is happening.

it's still the alcohol, and she's there enough to realize that he's right and so she nods.]

Yes, you're right, of course. [hey, he looks good in that crown.] Perhaps... a glass of water, if it's not too much trouble?

[At the end of the day, Crowley will always be a predator, and there's a certain taste that panic has, when it's in the air. He's not about to mention it, but he releases her slowly, moving to grab a fresh bottle of water from the fridge.]

I'll do you one better. [He twists the top off and offers it out.] Little easier to drink from than a glass.

[With a quick miracle, he makes sure the bed has fresh linens and there's an unopened toothbrush sitting by the ensuite's sink.]

Once you're done with that, I'll show you up to bed. I can make you some clothes to sleep in, if you'd like?

[in the morning, she will be horrified by her actions, all of them, but in the moment, she's grateful and that's far more obvious than her momentary panic.

she takes the water with a smile and her genuine surprise shows itself at his offer of clothing. it's been a while since anyone's had anything to do with her clothes; she's always had someone to help her with them, either to dress or undress, or to lace her into her dresses, or to pick her clothing for the day, so his offer touches a melancholy chord and she nods.]

Please, if you don't mind.

[and though she clutches the water bottle close to her chest, out of comfort and necessity, she asks:]

Will you sit with me?

Of course. Bedroom's up this way.

[He won't touch her again without her initiating, but he'll stay close enough that she can reach out if she needs a steadying hand, especially with the flight of stairs to traverse once they're out of the kitchen and through the living room.]

Is a shift alright? Or have you discovered the joys of modern sleepwear?

[Either can be done with the snap of his fingers, so he'll defer to her preference.]

[without the constant adrenaline keeping her going, she's a little dizzy and quickly becoming tired and maybe a little queasy. not enough to actually be ill, but she's certainly more aware of her drinking habit gone wild than she had been a half hour earlier.

up the stairs, she waits for him to motion to a room, a nagging voice telling her that she's taking advantage of his hospitality, but she doesn't say anything about it.

instead, her voice turns lightly incredulous.]

I trust you implicitly, of course -- [despite her earlier panic] -- however I cannot imagine how sleepwear could have changed much over the years.

[There's really only one room to go to, the bedroom takes up most of the mezzanine level, with only a little left for the large ensuite. Before they walked up the stairs, it was all clear glass, but it's currently frosted to allow some more privacy.]

Changed a lot, actually. I usually sleep in silk. Here.

[He snaps his fingers and three sets of pajamas appear on the bed, all in Anne's size. The first is an undergarment like she'd expect, a simple shift. The second is a set of pants and a button down top, in a pale grey. The final item is a more modern nightgown, in a soft, stretchy cotton/nylon blend, sleeveless but long enough that it'd go past her knees.]

These are a few options amongst many.

I never quite managed to learn that.

[she motions as if she's going to snap her fingers and doesn't. it's not the snap she's referring to specifically, but the managing to make things (or people) appear at whim. command a space? absolutely. be ruthless when necessary? of course. but the women that served her had always served at her husband's pleasure and had never wanted to serve a spanish princess in a french court. having the ability to wave a hand and get her every desire is something she'd never quite learned.

her hand moves along the clothing and she wants to ask if he has a preference. not because of his earlier offer but because she supposes he knows if something is more comfortable than another. she doesn't, though her hand stops on his third option; not quite what she's used to, though not pants for sleeping, either.]

I suppose you would, wouldn't you? [she glances up at him with a quiet smile.] Sleep in silk. [lifting the nightgown, she sits in its place on the bed.] This one, thank you.

[whether she'll get to it remains another issue entirely. she's very tired suddenly.]

Bit tricky when you're not a demon.

[Or an angel. Unfortunately, he's not quite keyed in enough to her train of thought to realize exactly what she meant by that comment, so he's talking a bit more practically than Anne intended.

Once her decision is made, he waves a hand to disappear the other two items.]

Don't know why people sleep in anything else, honestly.

[He tilts his head to regard her, noting the exhaustion.]

I'm going to change your clothes, alright? [Another snap, and she's out of her jeans and shirt, dressed instead in the nightgown. He leaves her undergarments as is, not wanting to overstep any boundaries, but this way she doesn't have to bother with getting changed manually. Her day clothes are folded neatly beside her.] There you are, much more comfortable.

[her mutterings are more for herself, or the result of too much alcohol, or both.

nevertheless, when he changes her clothing without touching her, she's even more confused than before and eyes the switch with a bit of a furrowed brow, pulling the cloth away from her side as if to measure it's quality before nodding once more.]

Much more.

[she's still holding onto the water bottle, and the cap comes off with some ease, before she gulps down half.]

Better. [she turns to face him slowly.] Thank you.

[He gives her a moment to adjust to the change, and to drink some water, since she definitely needs the latter. It'll help with the almost inevitable hangover.]

You're welcome.

[He's gotten better at that, accepting thanks, and it's easy enough to do now.]

D'you want to sleep now? You're perfectly safe here.

Yes.

[the bottle goes to the table and anne pulls back her own covers and slips into the bed. gone from her mind is the request that he stay with her as she's almost asleep as it is. instead, she rolls to her side and, closing her eyes, is gone.]

[Crowley waits until he's certain she's asleep and staying that way, then slips out of the room to spend the rest of his evening downstairs. Which turns into texting Aziraphale, which turns into visiting Aziraphale after a slight... kerfuffle, but he keeps a small sliver of awareness on the flat, and he returns well before Anne wakes.

Once she does wake, she'll find Crowley stretched out on the sofa, wearing almost exactly the same thing he was before, sans boots and jacket, though he has the sunglasses on, and he's keeping himself busy messing around on his laptop. He knows she's up, but he'll give her time to approach on her own terms, since he's sure she's probably feeling a bit rough.]

Edited 2020-05-01 03:29 (UTC)

[rough.

it's a single word to describe what is most certainly the worst morning that anne can remember in a very, very long time. and though she's awake, she feels as if she should bathe, should eat (or not, perhaps), and certainly dress in the clothes she was wearing the night before. a glance at them, however, reminds her of some of what she'd allowed to transpire and she feels a certain shame that she's woken in another person's house.

she remembers crowley coming for her, helping her, hydrating her, and putting her to bed. she vaguely remembers some of what she'd said and, as she dresses, she sighs at the feel of the denim. it's not who she is, but she'll wear it home before disposing of it.

she moves downstairs cautiously and, seeing crowley on the sofa, clears her throat quietly.]

Good morning.

Morning.

[He flashes her an easy smile as he closes the laptop, setting it on the coffee table so he can get to his feet. He tips his head as he regards her, noting the clothes from last night.]

D'you want to take a shower? I can miracle you up some fresh clothes, whip you up something for breakfast?

[Something light, probably, to help settle her stomach if she's feeling hungover.]

[there's a very strong part of her that desperately wants to hurry home and rid herself of everything she'd done in the last eighteen hours, but the offer is there and he could very well be a listening ear for what she'd done to put herself in such a position. so, she agrees.]

If you don't have other plans for the morning, I would like that very much, though I'm not very hungry. [and, feeling a bit formal, she adds:] Thank you.

[He waves away the thanks, gesturing back towards the ensuite.]

I'm all yours for a few hours, plenty long enough for breakfast and a shower. The towels in there are all fresh conjured, and there's a toothbrush and toothpaste on the sink. Take as much time as you need, I'll stay down here 'til you're done.

[Just in case that's a reassurance she needs.

In the bathroom, a set of fluffy black (of course) towels appear, including a wash cloth and a fresh bar of soap that smells like cedar. Hanging on the back of the door once she's done, she'll find a long silk slip in lieu of cotton undergarments, and a white dress. He tried to go for something modern, while still being comfortable and modest.]

Edited 2020-05-01 05:19 (UTC)

[it doesn't take as long as one might think it should. she's fairly adept at taking care of herself in the bathroom, despite rarely having to do so at home. it's been a while since she's been there, however, so she's back downstairs in the dress he's provided in less than thirty minutes.

freshly scrubbed with damp hair, she looks impossibly younger. the headache has dimmed and her mouth feels less cotton-y. despite the knowledge that he has a knack for snapping his fingers and making things appear or disappear, anne's cleaned up after herself as much as she can out of politeness and gratitude and she eases into the front of his place with a lighter step and less a feeling of shame.]

I feel much more human.

[The first 15 of those 30 minutes is spent googling "best food to eat after a hangover" and trying to sort through what's bullshit and what isn't, while also taking into consideration the fact that Anne said she wasn't hungry.

She'll find him at the dining table, draped across a chair sipping a coffee. The spot set to his side has a bowl of oatmeal, topped with sliced banana, and a steaming mug of ginger tea. There's a small bowl of honey, as well, so she can sweeten both to her tastes.]

Shower's are good for that, that's what I like about them. [A little joke!] Take your time with the food, no harm if you don't eat it all.

[rather than say 'thank you' again, she offers a different type of gratitude.]

I appreciate your patience. [she does sweeten both and, lifting the tea first, takes a small sip, closing her eyes to the way it soothes her going down.] I was quite a mess last night and you... [she glances at him.] Were very kind when you didn't have to be.

[the cup is set down and she lifts the spoon.]

[Dealing with gratitude is still a tricky thing, though he's been working on it. Still, he lifts a shoulder in a lazy shrug.]

We're friends, aren't we? Wasn't just going to leave you alone drunk in a bar, I know what goes on in those places.

[That's the problem with being what he is, he knows exactly how awful people can be.]

Do you? [a small nod.] I suppose you must.

[she watches her cup intently as she confesses:] I was hoping I might find a solution to my problem there. So far, I haven't had much luck. A wizard I cannot look at and a man with-- [she bares her teeth slightly.] A vampire, he calls himself. Nice man.

Demon.

[He says it simply, as an explanation. Regardless of how much time he's spent in clubs on his own, he knows they're lovely little dens of sin and awfulness because they make his life incredibly easy, whenever he needed to report on some demonic activity.]

My first month I just slept with strangers, didn't even learn their names. It's not — easy, this place. [He'd tried to operate the way he did back home, and he would've kept doing it and kept hating it if he hadn't been lucky with Martin.] There are hotels you can go to, where you watch people. They'll never see you, you don't have to touch anyone or do anything 'cept watch, and it counts towards quota. M'not sure if that's better or worse. But it's an option.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject