John was, for a moment, less embarrassed at being caught in the act than worried that Aziraphale might jump to the wrong conclusion again. But it seemed he had conquered that particular insecurity (maybe the new corporation had something to do with that?) and his quiet, understated aura was soothing to nerves frayed by the fiend's corrupt presence.
"An express ticket home and an upgrade, huh? Good deal," John said tiredly as he settled back down and tried, with middling success, to sort out the tangle of sensors and tubes that were (mostly) still attached to him. He was glad for the momentary distraction; it gave him a chance to pull himself together, and also covered a brief flash of envy. Aziraphale had been the only angel around the Manor who'd favored an all-around unimpressive corporation. John couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to simply trade up to a newer, flashier model, but he did his best to squelch the thought. He was glad the angel had made it back so quickly, for Crowley's sake if no other reason, regardless of what he looked like.
"Yeah well, I'll ask the next fiend if I can stop for a shave and a haircut before we hit the churchyard," he said in response to Crowley. There wasn't a great deal of real humor behind it, but he felt somewhat encouraged that he could even make the attempt.
Though on second thought, there was really nothing remotely funny about the idea of such a thing happening again. If he couldn't keep his shit together better than he had this time, it was all too possible.
As the adrenaline drained from his bloodstream, a thick fog of exhaustion was gathering in his mind, tugging him back toward sleep. He fought it stubbornly, not eager to return to the disjointed solitude of his dreams.
"So's everybody else still in one piece?" he asked, unable to be more specific, though he could picture several faces and felt the names hovering somewhere just beyond his reach. A lot could have happened in a month.
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"An express ticket home and an upgrade, huh? Good deal," John said tiredly as he settled back down and tried, with middling success, to sort out the tangle of sensors and tubes that were (mostly) still attached to him. He was glad for the momentary distraction; it gave him a chance to pull himself together, and also covered a brief flash of envy. Aziraphale had been the only angel around the Manor who'd favored an all-around unimpressive corporation. John couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to simply trade up to a newer, flashier model, but he did his best to squelch the thought. He was glad the angel had made it back so quickly, for Crowley's sake if no other reason, regardless of what he looked like.
"Yeah well, I'll ask the next fiend if I can stop for a shave and a haircut before we hit the churchyard," he said in response to Crowley. There wasn't a great deal of real humor behind it, but he felt somewhat encouraged that he could even make the attempt.
Though on second thought, there was really nothing remotely funny about the idea of such a thing happening again. If he couldn't keep his shit together better than he had this time, it was all too possible.
As the adrenaline drained from his bloodstream, a thick fog of exhaustion was gathering in his mind, tugging him back toward sleep. He fought it stubbornly, not eager to return to the disjointed solitude of his dreams.
"So's everybody else still in one piece?" he asked, unable to be more specific, though he could picture several faces and felt the names hovering somewhere just beyond his reach. A lot could have happened in a month.