Date: 2019-08-19 05:38 pm (UTC)
salutosinedelectat: Sword, angry, nervous, scared (flaming asswhoopin)
He hears Crowley's voice, faintly, over the roaring fire and the cracking walls. He hears his name and the protest, but he keeps his eyes on the Duke.

Aziraphale can be many things. He can be naive. He can be a bit backwards at times, he can jump to conclusions, be too impulsive and not think things through. But he's not that stupid. He trusts demons to lie - any, all of them, all but Crowley - and the ease in the response doesn't escape him.

He stands his ground, looking firmly at the Duke. Not like he can ask him to make a promise. He'd be back at square one.

"--his safety." He's fishing, but he tries. "His safety, and the end of all of this."

A lamp falls from the ceiling on the corner of the dance floor, crashing down into flames.

"How do I know you'll keep your word?"
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𝕮𝖗𝖔𝖜𝖑𝖊𝖞

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