No. No. Panic slides through Crowley's body like a thousand razor blades. He didn't move fast enough. He didn't get him away from Hastur fast enough. It doesn't matter, because right now, all he has to do is concentrate. Concentrate, get them away from here.
He shouldn't teleport them to the safe place, he thinks. He should teleport them some distance away, take a cab or something and get there eventually, because that would be the safest. But bugger that, because he doesn't even know if Aziraphale can stand. He closes his eyes and teleports them to the street in front of the AirBnb, a lovely loft inside of a Buddhist temple. He has the key already, having miracled away the need to find it hidden in a locksafe at a local cafe. They can know the street they're on, but if Crowley has judged correctly, they'll look right over this temple.
The street is dark and impossibly quiet after the loud burning sounds of the bar. It's also cold, sharp and wet against Crowley's skin.
"Aziraphale," he says. "Can you stand? I can carry you."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2019-08-20 12:01 am (UTC)No. No. Panic slides through Crowley's body like a thousand razor blades. He didn't move fast enough. He didn't get him away from Hastur fast enough. It doesn't matter, because right now, all he has to do is concentrate. Concentrate, get them away from here.
He shouldn't teleport them to the safe place, he thinks. He should teleport them some distance away, take a cab or something and get there eventually, because that would be the safest. But bugger that, because he doesn't even know if Aziraphale can stand. He closes his eyes and teleports them to the street in front of the AirBnb, a lovely loft inside of a Buddhist temple. He has the key already, having miracled away the need to find it hidden in a locksafe at a local cafe. They can know the street they're on, but if Crowley has judged correctly, they'll look right over this temple.
The street is dark and impossibly quiet after the loud burning sounds of the bar. It's also cold, sharp and wet against Crowley's skin.
"Aziraphale," he says. "Can you stand? I can carry you."