"No," Crowley says, annoyed. "Well, yes. What I mean is."
He seems to forget for a second or two, on account of, on account of his ear, gosh that's nice.
- He stands up, capturing Aziraphael's hand in his own as a further preventative measure.
(His skin is warm - deeply, fiercely warm, like midday sand, and flagstones in the sun.)
"This," Crowley says again, a gesture with his free hand sketching out his meaning: the beach, and the sky, and the shining sea, and the loving, yellow sun. "I'm."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2008-12-17 05:22 am (UTC)He seems to forget for a second or two, on account of, on account of his ear, gosh that's nice.
- He stands up, capturing Aziraphael's hand in his own as a further preventative measure.
(His skin is warm - deeply, fiercely warm, like midday sand, and flagstones in the sun.)
"This," Crowley says again, a gesture with his free hand sketching out his meaning: the beach, and the sky, and the shining sea, and the loving, yellow sun. "I'm."
"Thanks," he says. "Thank you."