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[demonicmiracle]

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

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time is fake it's still december probably

[oldbookshop]

[ Picture a box. Not especially large-- the cube-ish sort of gift box that could be easily one-handed.

It's gift wrapped in black paper patterned with gold stars, with all the obnoxiously straight-edged military-esque precision that implies it probably took a few practice runs to get it ~just right~, and a neat pile of matched ribbons on the lid that imply the person adding them thought they were fun to make and charming to look at. The tag, of course, sticks out like a sore thumb in that it's tartan patterned and tied on with a bit of twine.

To: Crowley, it reads, From: Aziraphale, in highly familiar script.

Its contents:

- A set of whiskey glasses for Crowley's little bar that meets their overall old lush queen standards for drinkware.
- A pair of very soft spooky socks because Aziraphale thinks he's incredibly funny, and
- A hand-embroidered handkerchief (light grey, to give minimum due respect to Crowley's aesthetic). The work lacks the precision and practice of the wrapping paper; the stitches are simple, some clumsy, a smidge out of line. A green vining pattern around the border that could maybe theoretically be maidenhair fern if one squints. Maybe? And in the center, much less nebulous, is a cluster of yellow daffodils.

(If the particular shade of yellow seems to have been very, very particularly selected and happens to be a 1:1 match to a certain someone's eyes, there's no evidence that would hold up in court to support that claim.)

anyway get out of his school, merry christmas(?), thank you for accepting his incredible next step in romance. ]