Fortunately he was well dried off with the towel round his waist by the time Crowley returned. He gives a glance to the scissors and makes a face. They're small, but they should be able to cut through anything.
"I need to sit... Here, lets move to the bedroom." He expects some sort of remark and, if there is one, casually ignores it. He settles himself on the bed, scissors prepared, and then just looks at that lovely jacket. It would be a shame to ruin it. Even if they were going to repair it somehow with a tailor, though who knew if there was one, let alone anyone with quality. They were so few and far between these days as it was, not like it used to be.
It could be that there would be no coming back for this jacket, and Crowley's look would be altered in an unpleasant way, and looks were so very important to the demon.
Perhaps...if he concentrated...defined things more directly and clearly...
"Hold still, please." He set the scissors to the side, and traced his fingers along the seams instead, focusing on what he wanted-what he wished would happen. Not to make the jacket disappear or alter, but just so that it could be pulled on or removed. A white-gold line appeared in the seam and a very faint breeze stirred through his feathers. Aziraphale sucked on his lower lip in concentration and did the other seam and then, tugged at his collar.
"Let's see if we can get this off." Though he knew it would slide off easily, smiling proudly as it did. The seams parted to slip over his wings and then came back together just as neatly when the jacket was off. When it was free, Aziraphale set the jacket on his lap, testing the seams with his fingers and finding them just as miraculously pliable.
"Excellent. Now, let's get the rest of it and keep still. I don't want to burn you."
He didn't know if he would. He didn't know if this had that kind of Power. But then it might so he had to be cautious.
The shirt got the same treatment, but by the time he got to the undershirt, which he lifted away from Crowley's skin with one hand and traced seams with the other, he was sweating and his eyes stung.
"There... See if you can take that off..." It would be easy, he thought, and so it seemed to be. And oh, he had a beautiful back. Aziraphale admired the line of his shoulder blades and the arch of his dark wings, the curve of his spine. Again he longed to lean forward and nuzzle that spot between his shoulder blades but instead he leaned back, closing his eyes.
"I wonder, my dear, if you could bring me something to eat..."
no subject
"I need to sit... Here, lets move to the bedroom." He expects some sort of remark and, if there is one, casually ignores it. He settles himself on the bed, scissors prepared, and then just looks at that lovely jacket. It would be a shame to ruin it. Even if they were going to repair it somehow with a tailor, though who knew if there was one, let alone anyone with quality. They were so few and far between these days as it was, not like it used to be.
It could be that there would be no coming back for this jacket, and Crowley's look would be altered in an unpleasant way, and looks were so very important to the demon.
Perhaps...if he concentrated...defined things more directly and clearly...
"Hold still, please." He set the scissors to the side, and traced his fingers along the seams instead, focusing on what he wanted-what he wished would happen. Not to make the jacket disappear or alter, but just so that it could be pulled on or removed. A white-gold line appeared in the seam and a very faint breeze stirred through his feathers. Aziraphale sucked on his lower lip in concentration and did the other seam and then, tugged at his collar.
"Let's see if we can get this off." Though he knew it would slide off easily, smiling proudly as it did. The seams parted to slip over his wings and then came back together just as neatly when the jacket was off. When it was free, Aziraphale set the jacket on his lap, testing the seams with his fingers and finding them just as miraculously pliable.
"Excellent. Now, let's get the rest of it and keep still. I don't want to burn you."
He didn't know if he would. He didn't know if this had that kind of Power. But then it might so he had to be cautious.
The shirt got the same treatment, but by the time he got to the undershirt, which he lifted away from Crowley's skin with one hand and traced seams with the other, he was sweating and his eyes stung.
"There... See if you can take that off..." It would be easy, he thought, and so it seemed to be. And oh, he had a beautiful back. Aziraphale admired the line of his shoulder blades and the arch of his dark wings, the curve of his spine. Again he longed to lean forward and nuzzle that spot between his shoulder blades but instead he leaned back, closing his eyes.
"I wonder, my dear, if you could bring me something to eat..."