"Seem a great bit of fun, your lot," Crowley says. One thing is for certain. The War might be over for the moment, but the angels will be coming back for Aziraphale. Maybe Crowley----probably not Crowley---definitely Aziraphale. And Crowley has to stop them. He picks back up his flamethrower.
He lets out a noise of pain, gripping his leg and dropping the weapon. This could be bad, it could be very bad. He wants to tell Aziraphale he's fine, that it's nothing, but Hastur never let anything be nothing. He always liked to make things as bad as possible. He straightens up, trying to push it down. Can't let Aziraphale see it, not right now. Crowley can imagine it's fine and it will be fine until he's ready to deal with it.
"Is it over like that?" he says through gritted teeth. "Just like that? Shake hands, bugger off? Act like it's just---that that's it? All these people dead and that's it?"
no subject
He lets out a noise of pain, gripping his leg and dropping the weapon. This could be bad, it could be very bad. He wants to tell Aziraphale he's fine, that it's nothing, but Hastur never let anything be nothing. He always liked to make things as bad as possible. He straightens up, trying to push it down. Can't let Aziraphale see it, not right now. Crowley can imagine it's fine and it will be fine until he's ready to deal with it.
"Is it over like that?" he says through gritted teeth. "Just like that? Shake hands, bugger off? Act like it's just---that that's it? All these people dead and that's it?"