(duplicity) ic contact

[demonicmiracle]

Hey, it's Anthony Crowley. You know what to do, do it with style.

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[afraidtofall]

[He won't say a word of it, just watching and taking in the details, the soft blush, the puff of warmth into his palm.]

I'll keep that in mind.

[He reaches for the bottle to pour some straight whiskey into his cup, not enough tea and milk in the bottom of it to worry about. Lifting it, he downs a warming swallow.]

[demonicmiracle]

[He realizes that in some point while trying to distract Aziraphale, he made himself feel better, which is a convenient side effect. Crowley finishes off his tea, then sets the cup back down on the tray so he can list sideways onto the sofa, stretching his legs out.]

We're good, yeah?

[It helps, to check, especially after heavier conversations. And it's easier to ask the question when his gaze is directed at the ceiling.]

[afraidtofall]

Getting better by the moment.

[He mock toasts him with his tea cup and has another lazy swallow.

This time, the silence afterward isn't weighted or uncomfortable. It's just one of their usual lulls after a meandering round of conversation.

He kicks off his own shoes finally and rests back against the back of the sofa. If they just lounge and drink for the next couple of hours or so, he'll be content, and then he needs to get back to work.]