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.

Comments

take notes, gentlemen

[salutosinedelectat]

He gives it some thought, starting to head towards the door. "I do suppose doing more conventional matters might help thwart them." Although they did find their plane and risk ending the lives of several innocent mortals for it. Although there's the distinct possibility that the actual purpose of it was just to flush them out. Or, alternatively, they didn't care.

"Perhaps if we move closer to the inner city--" He turns his head as he talks, spotting that one tourist having a chat with one of the waitstaff, near the door to the kitchen. In that moment, he swears they lock eyes.

Something in him distinctively does not like that.

[sauntered_downward]

Crowley doesn't notice what Aziraphale sees, he only sees the door, sees their way out, thinks about how easy it could be if they could just call an Uber, or how nice it would be if they could just walk leisurely through the city streets, instead of making it a fearful rush.

If only.

"They shouldn't be able to find us where I've got us staying," he says. "It's too well hidden. It's just getting there that's the hardest part."

[salutosinedelectat]

They step outside and the angel loses sight of the person. He's following Crowley, stepping quickly as he ended up slowing down before, and he's giving the door behind them several glances. He's not sure what he just saw, but it gave him a terrible feeling.

"Where--where is that?" He's a bit ruffled, should probably tell the demon what he saw, but what if it's nothing?

[sauntered_downward]

"Should keep it quiet," he says. "Walls have ears. Cars have ears. Everything has ears nowadays."

The last thing he needs is their safe haven invaded by forces beyond their control.

"But trust me, I've been very careful."

[salutosinedelectat]

He keeps looking back at the door, half expecting the person to step out and start following them. But no one steps outside, and he can't tell if that's better or worse, really.

He catches up to Crowley. "Alright. Well-- how quickly can we get there?"

[sauntered_downward]

"Depends on how fast we can find a taxi," Crowley says, looking up the street. "I never call taxis. I have my own car for this."

He called taxis all the time back when horses and buggies were in fashion, but now that he has the Bentley----had, he reminds himself. Just something else the had to leave behind in London. Aziraphale lost the bookshop, Crowley lost the Bentley. And, really, of the two, the car was a far more precious commodity. It at least took them places.

[salutosinedelectat]

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.

[sauntered_downward]

"Nah," Crowley agrees. "We'll just----"

He raises a hand up to gesture for a cab, but no one stops for him. He tries again, no avail. Surely, they must just look like tourists, and cabs would want to stop for tourists. Maybe they look harried, or look like they're being followed. Maybe they look frightening to the humans around them, Crowley thinks. Normally, that wouldn't bother him, but right now, they want to blend in.

He turns to Aziraphale. "How late?"

[salutosinedelectat]

Aziraphale fishes out his pocket watch. " Nearly ten in the evening." Not as late as possible, and only as relevant as the life around them. He puts his watch away.

"Should we..." Clearly not entirely sure about his own suggestion. "check if everything worked out back at the temple?" Or would it be a terrible idea to retrace their steps?

[sauntered_downward]

"I think we should move forward," Crowley says, very seriously. Not just because the idea of retracing his steps sounds terrible. He hates the idea of going back to wherever the people who are chasing them are. They need to get to the place he's set up. The safe place. The place where he and Aziraphale can truly rest. If they even can rest right now.

No taxis. He considers the option of calling an Uber, but worries about that being traced. His side was never very good with technology, but Aziraphale's?

"We need a place to regroup," he says. "Let's----" Where, though?

[salutosinedelectat]

Not that any level of exhaustion that can actually affect them is that easy to get rid of. But a breath and the minimal feeling of safety could really help out here.

Aziraphale doesn't try to complete Crowley's suggestion, in fact vaguely feels like there isn't really one. "Maybe we can find somewhere with more people. Surely there'll be other ways to move around." Like buses, undergrounds...something.

[sauntered_downward]

Crowley thinks about their hotel, where he's placed it in a place that should, in theory, be completely neutral place----but they have to lay low before they can get there. If they have a tail, they need to lose it first. And Crowley, for his part, was not finished drinking away some of his problems.

"There," Crowley says, gesturing to a bar that appears to be open. He speaks no Japanese, but it has people, it's out of sight. It could be enough to give them some breathing room.

[salutosinedelectat]

Aziraphale looks towards the bar, raising an eyebrow. He eyes the entrance, before giving Crowley a curious look.

"Are you sure?" He would've never figured Crowley as a karaoke fan...

[sauntered_downward]

Crowley doesn't even think twice. "It's people, it's away. Why wouldn't we?"

He takes a step towards the door and hears the sound of karaoke coming through. He cringes immediately.

"Oh."

It's still a great option.

[salutosinedelectat]

Aziraphale just walks along, not entirely looking forward to stepping into that sort of location - not really his style, you see - but if Crowley thinks it's a good idea, he'll bear it.

He looks up at him. "Well, I...suppose we can lay low here."

[sauntered_downward]

Oh, Crowley hates this idea, too. He'd much rather go to the hotel, where the sushi and rice wine are waiting for them, suspended in animation. But they'll get there. They just have to make sure it's safe, first.

"Yeah," Crowley says, looking one last time back out at the street. "We'll go here."

He pulls open the door to the sound of a very off-key rendition of something by Britney Spears being sung by someone who clearly doesn't speak English. However, there is the smell of food, and there is alcohol and places to sit.

And no angels or demons. Not as far as Crowley can see.

[salutosinedelectat]

Aziraphale winces as soon as the sound hits his ears. Oh. Well, whoever's singing is clearly enjoying themselves, at least. And he...supposes the neon lights are...colorful.

The alcohol, though, he'll take it. Still haven't made up for what was lost in the plane and running for their ethereal lives.

Dressed as he is, hands folded behind his back, laying low here is only possible thanks to the lack of functional lights.

"Well...after you."

[sauntered_downward]

Crowley takes a breath and looks back at Aziraphale with a look that tells him thank you very much for that before stepping inside. The inside is mercifully clean, at least. No sticky floor to deal with. Though there are a lot of people. A lot of people drinking, singing, being generally happy to be here at this exact moment.

He hates to admit it, but it's a perfect place to hide.

Miraculously (or with the gentle help of Crowley), there is a booth near the back that opens up for them to sit at, and Crowley navigates them towards it.

"Here?" he suggests. He raises a hand to get them two drinks.

[salutosinedelectat]

Aziraphale nods, taking a seat at one of the sides of the booth.

He takes a moment to look around properly. Dark, but colorful. Unpleasantly loud. But there's a nice, comfortable feeling of enjoyment. Mortals having fun with their friends, family, their community. Even if it does involve terrible singing.

It makes him smile a bit.

[sauntered_downward]

"Not exactly the tour of Japan we originally hoped for," Crowley says, glancing back at the person on stage.

He remembers when karaoke machines were originally invented. His side----well, Hell, that is, it's not his side anymore---thought that they were going to be a big boon for them. People tearing apart popular songs, singing awfully. Couldn't be a better way to annoy others, destroy hope and all that. Hastur thought it would be, most of all. "Now we're thinking like Crowley," he had said. And then the machines just became a symbol of drunken revelry, and people liked them so much that Hell gave up on them.

Odd, coming back to a place with such a unique place of human invention. The human invention Hell thought was a complete failure. Crowley wonders idly if Heaven even realized it existed.

"I would have preferred the more scenic route," he says. He adds, "Sorry, angel."

[salutosinedelectat]

He turns to look at Crowley, first confused, then tutting softly. "Oh, my dear, I don't think it was quite in our hands." He certainly doesn't think Crowley chose to almost be in a crashing plane, or nearly killed by plunging into certain holy destruction.

He reaches across the table to touch his hand.

"I believe we're safe now."

[sauntered_downward]

Aziraphale reaches out and touches Crowley's hand and the room seems to get a little quieter, at least within Crowley's own head. They're together and they're away from everyone else, which is what he wanted, wasn't it? But not like this.

He lets his fingers curl around Aziraphale's, slowly and carefully.

"It's a Buddhist temple," he tells the angel. "Where we'll stay. I figured it would be a neutral location. Neither of them would have a hold in it."

[salutosinedelectat]

He feels Crowley takes his hand. And he's taken back to that moment in the plane, so sorely interrupted. A moment he felt never quite had its true end. Moments like these, whatever they really are, never seem to.

He blinks, though, mildly surprised by the information. "A temple?" Aziraphale pauses for a moment, thinking about it, keeping his eyes on Crowley. "And it's...safe?"

[sauntered_downward]

"I don't know," Crowley says. "But I imagine so. It's different than what they're used to, at least. That should throw them off a bit. Give us some space, some time without them. So long as I don't react like it's consecrated."

What would he have said to Aziraphale in that plane, if the moment where they held hands had continued? He felt confident enough in the moment, but now he's not sure. Sitting in a dark karaoke bar in the middle of Japan, it feels like it's not the right place for anything, but when have they ever had the right opportunity for any conversation since all of this started?

[salutosinedelectat]

"What if you do?" Not to be a stickler for details, but Aziraphale certainly doesn't even consider hiding out anywhere without him at this point, so he worries this plan might not work. Although, really, it wouldn't be much of a change from how things are right now.

Their hands, still held, lie on the table between them.He can pretend he forgot. He can pretend a lot of things.