He meant to watch the stage. Truly he did. But all Aziraphale could focus on was Crowley sitting next to him.
It probably said something about him that he was actually enjoying hell.
“Wasn’t the temperature supposed to be way one side or the other?” he asked the devil who accompanied him. At the very least, he assumed she was some sort of devil. She looked like a blonde member of some governmental agency. He also assumed that would make sense of a worker of hell.
“What do you mean?” She lit a cigarette.
This was definitely hell, he supposed, but he didn’t mind that either. She looked rather sexy while doing so and he doubted it was going to adversely affect her health. “People think that hell is supposed to be fire, right? But I assumed it could also be freezing cold down here too.”
She could have rolled her eyes, but she didn’t. “That’s the first misconception. Down here? We aren’t down anywhere. This isn’t the physical plane of existence, so it isn’t higher or lower than where you were living. It’s not there.”
That wasn’t answering his question, but looking out at the beautiful, comfortable dusk before him, the unending green in front of him, he supposed it didn’t matter. Sure, there were all the bodies over there, but that happened with the living too.
Yep, it said something about him all right.