𝕮𝖗𝖔𝖜𝖑𝖊𝖞

Aziraphale rarely ever bothered with taxis, too, in the recent century or so. Cars, as useful and fantastic of an invention as they are, can also be quite stressful and frustrating to deal with if you find yourself with the wrong driver. Or Crowley. Who is very much the right driver, but whose driving still instilled the angel with unpleasantly mortal dread.

But, well, guess they don't quite have to worry about that now, do they?

"Well, surely that can't be that difficult, right?" Nevermind that they're in an urban area, and have actively put a distance between themselves and the airport. Or they could have called for a cab, had they not left the restaurant in such a rush. But they've had a lot worse to endure this evening, so this barely even registers as an issue.

"It's getting quite late." The angel remarks.