Aziraphale took in the air. Paris didn’t smell like it used to, but it was surprisingly similar in certain ways. Especially on certain streets, where he always felt like he could stop in one more place, no matter when he had last ate.
But that wasn’t the point of the day. He waited out on the street, watching those who passed him with mild interest.
He felt when someone walked up behind him, but he didn’t turn. Aziraphale gave Crowley the opportunity he wanted to place a hand on his shoulder.
Been waiting long? he mouthed, in a language no one would have known, even in London. Continue reading “Paris”
It came to be that his favourite part of the day was going down to the orphanage. Or when some of the kids came up to see him. It made him feel a little bad, because his favourite part of the day used to be the time he spent with Fletcher. And he used to feel guilty when that had superseded how much he liked spending time with his mother.
Unlike with his mother though, he could tell Fletcher this without feeling too bad about being honest.
Fletcher laughed. “Don’t feel bad about that. It is good that you have found other children your age to spend time with.”
“But that means I’m spending less time with you.”
“I still see you every day.” Fletcher spread out an arm, gesturing at the map covering the table. “We still discuss. You still learn. One must balance what they do. You still do enjoy our time together?”
“Then what is the problem?” He laughed again. “Though next time you invite them to one of our lessons, let me know beforehand. Preparing for more than just you requires a bit more thought on my part.”
In that moment, he couldn’t be more content with life. “Okay, Fletcher. Thank you.”
He went to go see Winter.