Neutral Omens

Aziraphale beamed brilliantly at him as if he couldn't tell, said, "There's a dear chap," and passed him roughly four times what the price there and back would have been.

Good behaviour, after all, should have its rewards.

"Is there anything you'd quite like me to pass onto John for you?"

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Chas's eyebrows shot up at the amount Ezra had given him, and he almost objected, but was distracted by the question. "Eh? Not really..." There were a few things he wanted to ask about, but they were best brought up in person. "You could let 'im know to ring me, though. Ta, guv. "

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"Cheers," Aziraphale bid him, the Manor attracting his attention back in all its monolithic glory, and watched the taxi tumble off down the roads back up to London.

The doors were big and unlocked, and Aziraphale's realization of Adam's presence, now that he was familiar with it, almost immediate. His influence showed everywhere, at the very least in the sense of safety.

Letting out a sneeze, Aziraphale shook off the rain and folded it up. He began humming a tune under his breath. "Oh, Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream..."

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Lately, Adam had found himself kicking around more in the lobby. With Uriel off taking care of Bran, someone had to keep an eye on the arrivals and departures.

He smiled when Aziraphale arrived, pleased to have the angel back. "Hullo," he said.

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The angel started. "Oh, Adam. I should've expected to see you." He smiled, sheepishly, clutching the umbrella to him as he fished out his glasses. "You look older, somehow. How are you? You're still taking good care of everyone, I trust."

Eyes hesitant, the lighter tone of pleasantries left him, and he opened his mouth. "How is... everyone?"

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"Yeah, prob'ly," grinned Adam. "Older? I don't think I've changed as much in a coupla months as you have."

A pause. "Crowley's doin' okay, I guess. He's been worse. And everybody else is pretty good. Have a nice trip?"

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"In many ways, yes," although the look Aziraphale had was one of deep-seated exhaustion, and not the one of pride he expected to wear.

Listening to the tactful answer, Aziraphale closed his eyes briefly. "Thank you. I wanted to be certain he was all right on his own, as odd as that sounds." He'd be sure of it when he saw Crowley personally, of course, but Adam's word was comforting.

"Is there anywhere to, ah, rest my things? I would like to take a look at the library and see if there's anything I can do for it now. I might expand it a touch, too, to keep it up-to-date. There is absolutely nothing better than a decent collection of books."

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Looking faintly worried, Adam looked up at the angel. "Don't worry, he's got people lookin' after him. Now it looks like you need that, too."

He looked at the book, but only for something to focus on. Adam knew what he had to say. "'m sorry, but we hadda move John into your old room. Crowley wouldn't let anyone else next door. Said it wasn't safe. So is there someplace else you'd like to stay? You c'n visit the library any time, of course."

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Unexpectedly, Aziraphale looked very surprized. "Dear boy, you shouldn't have to apologize! I hardly mind losing my premises..."

He would sleep, eventually. He'd take care of this and that first, and stop in on a few friends. He hadn't been home in months and he missed it, and there were acquaintances to stop in and see, and likely news that accounted for the preternatural stillness in the air.

Or maybe that was simply Adam standing before him.

Crowley had shown him sleep, originally. Had taught him a regular sleeping schedule, and got him to keep to it, and as time passed it was as natural as breathing, although he didn't need that either, technically. And without the habitual rests that he was so used to, it was odd that he was so restless.

Oh, and Adam was waiting for a reply, wasn't he? "I would merely like somewhere to hang my coat, yes. It hardly matters where."

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"You don't mind?" Adam blinked. Then he shrugged. "All right. I c'n put you in the room next to Ellie's. It's pretty close to the library. But not quite as fancy as your old room. That work?"

The boy thought Aziraphale should probably take a nap first with how tired he looked, but it wasn't his decision to make.

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"Not if it's Constantine," Aziraphale clarified at Adam's reaction.

"Ah, that should work perfectly. I should, er, likely be on my way, though. Did you perhaps want to stop by the library in the future? There's some classic adventure novels I'm not sure you've had the pleasure of reading in the collection. The Once and Future King, perhaps?"

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With a laugh, Adam handed the angel his room key. "What makes you think I haven't?" he asked. "I didn't actually like that one very much. Arthur made a lotta bad decisions that he knew were bad at the time. Bit silly, really. But I'll be by the library sometime. See ya later, Aziraphale."

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"T'rah," Aziraphale waved, studying the retreating figure.

Well. At least the boy - young man - had some classics. He headed for the stairs.

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Now, there was no way she couldn't have recognized the voice. Aziraphale had, apparently, come back.

Hodling Bran on one arm -- she had just fed him, so hopefully he wouldn't get fussy anytime soon -- she hurried to meet the other angel. She suspected, after all, that Aziraphale might like to see Bran.

"Aziraphale!" she called out. "Interested in meeting the one and only native Manor inhabitant?" Not counting rats, of course. As far as human-shaped creatures went, though, Bran was indeed the first and thus far only being to ever be born in the Manor during Adam's management of it -- or if he wasn't, she had missed something big. (Those born there when it had still been a hospital didn't count, of course. After all, they weren't really inhabitants. Whether Adam counted was unclear, and she didn't know about his place of birth, anyway.)

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The angel turned, umbrella still dripping from the rain. "Of course, my dear Uriel," Aziraphale said pleasantly, looking at the small child cradled in her arms. "And who's this little chap I see here before me?"

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//That's Bran,// Bast interjected, weaving out from behind Uriel's legs. She'd found some cream in the kitchens and was feeling perhaps a little too giddy to be totally sensible. //He's adorable, isn't he? Although he's a bit too well-behaved for a baby, even a mini-angel.//

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"This is Bran," Uriel replied. "My dear little son." In her mind, she added, 'Bran Pestison'. There weren't that many immortals with white eyes, so trying to hide the truth would be at best difficult and probably impossible. Still, she was going to keep omitting that little fact until somebody actually asked. Some might actually figure it out by themselves. Unless somebody assumed the father was Pollution...

As though to test whether Aziraphale would make the connection, Bran blinked his very white eyes slowly.

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"Oh, he's beautiful, Uriel. Adorable, yes..."

He had wondered about the children of angels, actually. The tales and stories he himself had heard, and seen scribed.

But none of the children had had eyes like that.

"He looks just like you, my dear," Aziraphale said tactfully.

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"Do you really think so?" Uriel asked, smiling a bit. "Well, he certainly does have my hair." But not her eyes. Her eyes had been green for almost all of her existence. With another smile, she added, "And my wings, too. I wonder when he'll learn to fly."

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"Oh. Oh dear. Hopefully not until he's figured out how to walk back? It's going to be terribly hard to keep an eye on him once he figures out that little detail, let alone any other inherited... talents. The Manor has a lot of walls."

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"Hopefully the first thing he learns is how to stop," Uriel said, sighing a bit. "But yes, it should be interesting, keeping an eye on him when he gets a bit older. Average children can only run, after all." Smiling, she added, "I hope I won't have to look for him on top of book shelves instead of just under them."

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Aziraphale nodded. "Precisely, precisely... Well, he does have quite a big safety net, considering the numerous godfathers and godmothers and... well, gods themselves, around. I'm sure any mishaps will forever be very minor."

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