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neutral_omensDate: March 9, 2000
Setting: Tadfield Manor - Lobby
Status: Public
Summary: It had been a restless day.
It had been a restless day for Aziraphale. He'd be woken in late morning from a nightmare, Crowley having left sometime earlier. He showered, readied himself for another day, and then stopped.
What for?
He didn't have any orders, missions to complete, or reports to write. There was no cataloguing of books that he needed to do without the bookshop, no records of sales to make, and really, he'd exhausted the Manor library's small supply of historical religious texts.
Aziraphale sighed. Crowley and he had spent so much time together lately - no complaints there, it had all been quite active time together - that it hadn't mattered too much, but there was always that annoying feeling that there was something missing. It itched at him.
He had to face it. He wasn't going to get his bookshop back, at least any time soon. Aziraphale would have to find something else to do.
He found himself at the lobby, dinging the bell and looking around for anyone. The angel waited, then a thoroughly disgraceful filing cabinet caught his eye. Papers of all colours and sizes were sticking out, crushed and crumpled. Resumes piled up on the chair, some dated from September, and Aziraphale was faintly sure he'd seen the list of paying guests and employees in the corner under the desk.
Aziraphale shook his head. Really. It looked like no one had been there at all for at least the past month. He began organizing the papers on the desk, moving stacks off the chair (fixing a squeaky wheel in the process) and settling into it. All the better to sort with. And file.
He started in on his self-appointed task, clucking his tongue at the mess. He wasn't even aware that he was smiling as he did so. Aziraphale was being productive again.
Setting: Tadfield Manor - Lobby
Status: Public
Summary: It had been a restless day.
It had been a restless day for Aziraphale. He'd be woken in late morning from a nightmare, Crowley having left sometime earlier. He showered, readied himself for another day, and then stopped.
What for?
He didn't have any orders, missions to complete, or reports to write. There was no cataloguing of books that he needed to do without the bookshop, no records of sales to make, and really, he'd exhausted the Manor library's small supply of historical religious texts.
Aziraphale sighed. Crowley and he had spent so much time together lately - no complaints there, it had all been quite active time together - that it hadn't mattered too much, but there was always that annoying feeling that there was something missing. It itched at him.
He had to face it. He wasn't going to get his bookshop back, at least any time soon. Aziraphale would have to find something else to do.
He found himself at the lobby, dinging the bell and looking around for anyone. The angel waited, then a thoroughly disgraceful filing cabinet caught his eye. Papers of all colours and sizes were sticking out, crushed and crumpled. Resumes piled up on the chair, some dated from September, and Aziraphale was faintly sure he'd seen the list of paying guests and employees in the corner under the desk.
Aziraphale shook his head. Really. It looked like no one had been there at all for at least the past month. He began organizing the papers on the desk, moving stacks off the chair (fixing a squeaky wheel in the process) and settling into it. All the better to sort with. And file.
He started in on his self-appointed task, clucking his tongue at the mess. He wasn't even aware that he was smiling as he did so. Aziraphale was being productive again.
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