Date: 2007-07-12 09:51 pm (UTC)
Puzzled by the radio (which was about as much an antique as Elvis himself) and Aziraphale's strange gestures, Ellie opened her mouth to ask what the angel was doing, but shut it again when she caught sight of the flask. Clearly, whatever was making her feel so ill at ease, Aziraphale had identified it as a threat--though if it was a demon, it wasn't like any she had encountered before; not one of the Fallen and not a Fiend, either. And closer than she had assumed, apparently, which was not at all reassuring.

She didn't stop to ask questions, but followed his lead, though she had to stifle an indignant squeak when he shut the closet door on her. Not that she'd never hidden in a closet before, in a pinch; but it felt unseemly somehow, letting the angel take risks for her sake, even if he was a Principality. It called to mind the fight in the Manor greenhouse some time before, as well as a much older memory, one she immediately kicked to the back of her mind and buried again.

Promising herself she wouldn't stay cowering in here if it turned into real trouble, she peered anxiously through the narrow space between the closet doors as the angel flung open the door to the room.
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The War Zone

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