"Well. Yes," he says, but can't quite bring himself to feel guilty about it. It's necessary.
He walks along at Crowley's pace. It's the perfect day for a stroll, breeze or not, with the grey clouds of the last few afternoons reduced to small, fluffy decorations of the heavens. The sun is warm on his shoulders, and the light breeze carries an indefinable freshness.
And then, there's the fact that he keeps glancing at Crowley to make sure he's still there, and finding that he is.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2009-08-09 02:30 pm (UTC)He walks along at Crowley's pace. It's the perfect day for a stroll, breeze or not, with the grey clouds of the last few afternoons reduced to small, fluffy decorations of the heavens. The sun is warm on his shoulders, and the light breeze carries an indefinable freshness.
And then, there's the fact that he keeps glancing at Crowley to make sure he's still there, and finding that he is.