He's not sure what to make of her varying stretches, but then again, she IS an odd one anyway...and he would be further insulted if she wasn't coming around reluctantly, so he will accept being called bitchy and migraine-inducing. After all, Aziraphale knows he is. For 6000 years, he's been a difficult, bitchy, migraine-inducing bastard, but one who knows the power of a good arrangement. So he can make some concessions.
And then she's moving like she's out of time with the rest of the world, like a video recording set to fast-forward. Inhuman, but then he had no delusions about her being human. She, however, might have had those delusions about him, but he parses her movement well-enough, given his own ethereal advantages, and at the end of it all, he gasps and grins brightly like she has just performed a very clever magic trick.
"Bravo. Isn't that marvelous," he declares with a quiet glee and a soft clasp of his hands. "I don't know why you don't use that to read your books. Or do you?" He looks around as if expecting the room around her to betray the secrets of what she's just pulled off, and then realizes she had introduced herself before all this. Tyzias. Pretty name.
Which means Aziraphale is left with a decision. After his failed Crowley-summoning, it presents as less of an outing than before, but still something significant to him.
"You may call me Mr. Fell," he says, holding out his hand. And for perhaps the first time in a while, he feels a little bit like a liar introducing himself as such. One should be relatively forthright with ones arrangement partner, shouldn't one?
no subject
And then she's moving like she's out of time with the rest of the world, like a video recording set to fast-forward. Inhuman, but then he had no delusions about her being human. She, however, might have had those delusions about him, but he parses her movement well-enough, given his own ethereal advantages, and at the end of it all, he gasps and grins brightly like she has just performed a very clever magic trick.
"Bravo. Isn't that marvelous," he declares with a quiet glee and a soft clasp of his hands. "I don't know why you don't use that to read your books. Or do you?" He looks around as if expecting the room around her to betray the secrets of what she's just pulled off, and then realizes she had introduced herself before all this. Tyzias. Pretty name.
Which means Aziraphale is left with a decision. After his failed Crowley-summoning, it presents as less of an outing than before, but still something significant to him.
"You may call me Mr. Fell," he says, holding out his hand. And for perhaps the first time in a while, he feels a little bit like a liar introducing himself as such. One should be relatively forthright with ones arrangement partner, shouldn't one?