for salutosinedelectat

[sauntered_downward]

Follows this.

They couldn't just teleport themselves there. Any miracles, demonic or otherwise, would attract too much attention. No, Crowley was actually going to have to sit there, plugging their information into an online search engine, and do it all manually. Fluctuating airline prices were demonic work, and right now a trip to Japan was over six thousand pounds more expensive than if he had bought it three days earlier, which was totally outrageous. Crowley didn't know a lot about money except what it made men do to each other, he'd never had to. But now, making money appear out of nothing could turn the wrong eye on them if he wasn't careful.

Luckily, he had quite a few credit cards that never needed paying or had a limit on them. They would work in a pinch for a moment like this. He didn't know if that sort of perk-of-being-a-demon could ever be taken away from him, but he hoped not.

The flight itself was a long one, and Crowley settled himself in for it by making sure they were flying at least first class. That way they could see everyone coming at them and have a few glasses of wine on the journey.

"I don't think they know about these passports," Crowley says. "They might, but I doubt it. I had them made back during the last World War, just kept them in good condition."

The second World War was something that Crowley took responsibility for, but he hated every moment of it, and what his side did to make it worse made him sick. He was more than prepared to hide away if he needed to when things went wrong back then. And, at the time, he had also created a passport for Aziraphale, in case he wanted to come along. No other reason for that, he told himself.

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[salutosinedelectat]

The thing about not knowing is that the possibilities are endless. There could be plants, right here, in the restaurant. That thing could still be following them, more quietly. The world could be back to ending tomorrow. Trying to consider all of the chances is just a fool's game.

He's looking around the restaurant when they're approached, and while he's still rattled, he still makes the effort to smile politely. He responds to the waitstaff in Japanese, a greeting, replies, a slight hesitation and faltering at a point, and a request for a table.

Do they look normal? Maybe. Maybe not. Possibly might be something odd to see what looks like a man in shades at night, or another one in a long pristine jacket, tartan bow tie and worn out vest. Maybe people are just polite.

They certainly have just been addressed as a couple, and Aziraphale is doing his usual song and dance of not talking about it.

[sauntered_downward]

Crowley doesn't speak any Japanese. He's made it a point of not learning any language that wasn't completely local and essential at the time because it just wasn't necessary. And besides, Aziraphale can lead this. He's gotten them into and out of stranger things. Maybe not as dangerous.

There has to be some way to hide their scents, their auras, whatever it is that they're being tracked with. With everything that they send out to find them, they'll find something stronger next. Something with a better nose, faster and more deadly. Crowley knows it, and he's certain Aziraphale does, as well.

"What sort of alcohol do we have here?" he asks as they're seated.

[salutosinedelectat]

He's eyeing the room, but one will forgive him if he really just does want to settle down for a nice authentic dinner in a nice restaurant, and forget this whole ordeal for an hour or two. They did just spend over 10 hours on a flight, which nearly crashed, and were almost discorporated/destroyed by a terrible, violent creature they couldn't even identify. They do deserve to relax, no?

" Hm." He looks over the menu. "The usual, wine, beer. Sake and shochu if you'd like." He's still tense, still listening, but he keeps his tone light. Casual. Well, semi-casual.

"... Do you sense it?" He looks over at him, subtly.

[sauntered_downward]

"You order whatever's drinkable, I'll take it," he says.

Crowley looks over the menu but it doesn't even matter to him. Aziraphale always knows the best food, he can pick for them both. He looks at the door, then over his sunglasses at the other patrons. None of them look demonic, not to Crowley, anyway.

He concentrates on what he's sensing, but right now all he feels is tense. Normally, he'd chalk that up to being in a new place, new situation, very nearly being completely obliterated only a few moments earlier. But that could very easily mean a whole lot more now.

"What do you feel?" he asks.

[salutosinedelectat]

" Nothing, now." Which should be a good thing. The ideal thing. A sign that they took care of the creature and that they can breathe. He sure hopes so, anyway.

He takes a look around again, but is approached by waitstaff and broken out of it. More polite smiles, ordering drinks - which he could do with a couple of doses, now that they've landed and successfully not died - and food.

He folds his hands and looks out at the other tables. "I supposed that's that." At least, in regards to whatever that thing was.

[sauntered_downward]

"For now," Crowley agrees. He reaches up and presses a fingertip to his temples, reaching out his mind, trying to see if he can feel the thing, feel it anywhere nearby. All he feels is the city, the low levels of sin that he's used to seeking out everywhere.

"If it's still alive, it's not anywhere near us," he says. Does that mean they're safe? Certainly not. But staying around humans, staying here, in public, is probably the best they can do for the moment.

He looks over at Aziraphale and takes a breath. "Are you all right?"

[salutosinedelectat]

Aziraphale looks at him, expression softening, and he does go to answer - but he falters and sighs instead, hanging his head slightly.

"Well, in one piece, so far." Which is more honest than he'd usually prefer to answer, but he's exhausted. And not even bad-day-art-work exhausted, since he does not sleep, but some way more visceral and honest, in his core.

He looks up at Crowley agai. "You?" How was it to stare actual death in the face less than 15 minutes ago?

[sauntered_downward]

How is he? Well, besides narrowly escaping actual death, seeing the water that could kill him come up to the car and just avoiding it, not to mention not having even what could have been a peaceful moment with his lifelong companion, he supposes he's doing all right. But he isn't about to say that. Aziraphale has had enough on him.

"I don't like how fast they found us," he says. "We hadn't even landed yet."

The waitress presents them with a bottle and several glasses. Despite how Crowley likes to be with people, he certainly can't be mean to this person. She's bringing him alcohol and essentially giving them a place to hide.

"We need a more permanent solution."

[salutosinedelectat]

Aziraphale is very good at switching between polite smiles and his more genuine expressions, so they should be fine. Crowley doesn't need to take the mantle of having to look chipper towards mortals. He utters a 'thank you' to the water, and is entirely too happy to see alcohol again, their old friend. Some nice sake for the both of them.

"We do, but what?" He takes the bottle, pours them both a drink. "They're getting smarter, and clearly don't even care about making a scene." He puts the bottle back down, and stops, for just a second, thinking what could have been of the people on that plane. He shakes his head slightly, with a bad taste in his mouth.

[sauntered_downward]

Crowley takes a drink of the sake, and makes a little face at it. It's not like anything he's tasted before. Very simple, very crisp. It's not unpleasant, it's just different. He imagines that's how a lot will be----like when he traveled before. He's become very accustomed to things being how he knows them.

"If they have an army of things like that, we can't fight them," he admits, which takes out his suggestion from before, that they bring the fight to them. Especially if things get bigger, get harder. "What does...Upstairs have?"

[salutosinedelectat]

Aziraphale takes a sip. When he's asked, however, he hesitates, awkwardly searching for words. Then he huffs, almost embarrassed.

" Soldiers. And a lot of..." He vaguely waves a hand. " Ineffability."

Which is his way of saying that there's rarely any information that trickles down to the lower ranks. Such as Principalities.

[sauntered_downward]

"Can we handle soldiers?" Crowley asks, looking at him worriedly. Giant terrifying monsters is something Crowley has experience with. He can handle that. Flaming sword wielding angels? That's not anything he's used to. And he doesn't really know how to get a hold of Hellfire. He supposes he could curse a flamethrower, if he was being particularly creative.

"I suppose what I should ask is, how much do we not want to handle soldiers?"

[salutosinedelectat]

Aziraphale opens his mouth, makes a couple of unsure noises, then closes it. He's never been a particularly...er, capable angel. He fought in a war, yes. They all had, demons too. It's not something to hold at a standard. And one didn't need to look too close to find that he never exactly held the respect of his divine peers. So he might be a little biased, specially as someone who, until as of late, was meant to tout the strength of Heaven.

"I would say we don't want to handle any of them, preferably." Which is a fact, rather than a ranking. "But we don't have any way of knowing what they're doing now, not with them believing we are impervious to--" Ugh. "er, conventional ways of disposal."

[sauntered_downward]

"Disposal," Crowley repeats, taking another sip of the sake. "Elimination. Destruction. Murder. Might as well just call it what it is. They want to murder us. For doing what? Being friends? Stopping the destruction of billions of people and boiling the oceans? Which was probably Her plan all along!"

Not that the angels and demons will see it that way, of course. They only see the War, the War they had looked forward to and wanted all this time. Can't win a War if there isn't a War.

"We can stop them, but we have to be ready, the way we were before the trials."

[salutosinedelectat]

He winces slightly when Crowley lists all the words for their death, and takes another sip to wash it down.

"Before the trials, we had help." The prophecy, even the Antichrist. They've always been on their own, but things were different in that time. "Unless we happen to come upon another piece of paper with an answer by sheer luck, I don't think we have a way of knowing their next steps."

[sauntered_downward]

"We don't need prophets from four hundred years ago to know what they're planning," Crowley says. "We know them. We worked for them. We sent them memos, we followed their moves. They...they just do what they think is the cleverest. And we were cleverer than them for six thousand years, angel. We can beat them now."

Can and must are interchangeable here, because they have to be. Crowley can't see another way they're getting out of this one.

[salutosinedelectat]

Aziraphale looks at him, wanting to believe those words, wanting to believe they can do it all over again and come out the other side. He wants to have faith in that, if nothing else. He wants peace, and he wants to enjoy it with Crowley.

He's very, very tired. He didn't think it was possible for him to feel tired. It's a very odd feeling.

But his side of the motivational seesaw is interrupted when the waiter brings them their order - a nice sushi assortment for the table, along with the appropriate sauces and sides.

He smiles up at her and thanks her, watching her leave, then setting his eyes on the dish.

A pause and a little breath. And a slightly more chipper sounding tone, to go with the food, of course.

" Would you like to try it?"

[sauntered_downward]

Crowley tilts his head as he looks at the dish. He recognizes some of the things on the dish, and he's seen sushi in a variety of things, most recently in a rewatching of the Breakfast Club, so he basically knows everything there is to know about it. Except...

"What's in it, exactly?" he says, looking warily at it. All the same, he picks up a set of chopsticks. You eat sushi with chopsticks, right? And who is Crowley to deny Aziraphale something that will make him happy?

[salutosinedelectat]

There it is, a much better subject to focus on than their apparent imminent destruction. He will gladly leap at it with open arms.

"Oh, well" He gestures along as he goes. "This one is very simple. Avocado, shrimp tempura, and cucumber-- and the rice and seaweed, of course. This one has eel, this one has tuna. They're all really quite different. You're supposed to eat them, the rolls - nigiri with your hands, but it's become quite common to use chopsticks. You should only eat sashimi with your chopsticks-- this one, the salmon. And you should only dip the fish."

He's just going to keep going if he's not stopped. Save yourself, Crowley.

[sauntered_downward]

The look on Crowley's face is one of extreme dubiousness. Aziraphale could be explaining a part of the ten commandments that were rewritten for the modern audience and Crowley would have a similar, uncertain expression. He doesn't really like food all that much on his own, but there's something very wonderful and special about sharing food with Aziraphale, and that really is moments like this, where he's being extremely excited about it in ways that Crowley just isn't.

One can't be around someone as excited about food and not feel a little excitement themselves.

"All right, so this is one of the rolls---" Crowley says, pointing at one of the eel. He reaches out to take one, carefully.

[salutosinedelectat]

Aziraphale gleefully watches him, even if Crowley picks it up like it might gain sentience and attack him.

" Yes. You're not quite supposed to dip it in the soy sauce. But I suppose to each one their own." he is watching closely. Very giddy. " There's also the Wasabi, if you feel like it."

This is definitely how adults handle their situation.

[sauntered_downward]

Crowley points at the green blob with his pinky. "That?"

Oh, Aziraphale is enjoying this too much. But if he can make Aziraphale this happy just by trying food, especially considering the straights they're in, he'd eat the whole damn plate himself no matter what it tasted like.

He pops the sushi into his mouth and gives it a careful chew. He really shouldn't have worried. He's never eaten a food Aziraphale has suggested that has been disgusting. Even oysters, which had a very strange texture, were delicious.

honestly, any adult I know, including myself

[salutosinedelectat]

The angel is entirely too excited about this, watching Crowley like one would watch a particularly enticing game of gold, should gold be their thing.

"Well? What do you think?" Aziraphale has known for many, many centuries that the demon doesn't quite enjoy food as much as he does. Or anyone with a mild enjoyment of food. But the demon also does most things the angel asks or suggests without much fuss, so that first part ends up not mattering much.

[sauntered_downward]

"There's a lot of things going on all at once," Crowley says, around the mouthful of food. "Milder than I expected."

But then again, all sorts of eras and places have all sorts of palates. He's tried the very bland and the very spicy and it's all never really mattered unless he was in the right company. Well, one very specific company. He picks up the piece of wasabi. "Do I just eat this?"

Someone enters the shop, and Crowley turns his head to look at the door. Just a tall, unassuming American tourist. Or is it? It could be anyone.

did he just pick up a glob of wasabi paste

[salutosinedelectat]

"Well, you--"

But his thought is cut short, turning his head the same way Crowley does. He watches the person, suddenly very quiet, very careful.