Likewise, Aziraphale is ready to say something else, most probably to continue fussing about the ways how the so-called plan might not work, about the details of different holy grounds, but he stops when the waiter delivers them their drinks. All that does end up coming out of him is a slight polite smile and a muttered thank you.
He looks at the drinks in front of them, eyes only glancing over at their hands for a fraction of a second. He's not looking, he's not, because he might have to pull away if he gives it too much thought.
Things are different. They've been different since that night. Since the world didn't end. But he's still learning what to make of it all, what to say, what to do. He's trying. He's learning.
He picks out the tiny paper umbrella with his free hand, giving it a once over. That smile doesn't quite look relaxed, but it's the best he can achieve right now. "How quaint."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2019-08-05 12:02 pm (UTC)He looks at the drinks in front of them, eyes only glancing over at their hands for a fraction of a second. He's not looking, he's not, because he might have to pull away if he gives it too much thought.
Things are different. They've been different since that night. Since the world didn't end. But he's still learning what to make of it all, what to say, what to do. He's trying. He's learning.
He picks out the tiny paper umbrella with his free hand, giving it a once over. That smile doesn't quite look relaxed, but it's the best he can achieve right now. "How quaint."