"Yeah, all right. I've been round once already, but another look won't hurt."
Accompanied by the sounds of Draco's epic struggle, John wandered through the disturbingly clean rooms of the ultramodern flat, shaking his head at the stark minimalist decor. The place looked like one of those showcase homes--someplace that had never been occupied, but was just there to remind real people what lousy housekeepers they were. He supposed demonic powers must make the housework easy, if not totally unnecessary, but still...
It was this unnatural cleanliness that finally drew his attention to a small slip of paper peeking out from beneath the edge of a decorative table. John bent and picked it up. It was a receipt from a book shop--and not, he noted with interest, Aziraphale's.
Let There be Lust, by Misty Moore, he read, then incredulously read it again. What the fuck? Sounds like some sappy romance novel.
He couldn't picture Crowley taking an interest in that kind of rubbish. Though admittedly, he thought he'd seen a couple of romances lying around when he'd first visited the demon up at the Manor. He nearly binned the thing, but decided at the last minute to hold on to it, just in case it turned out to be important.
Returning to the living room with nothing more to show for his efforts, he was met by a drenched and bedraggled but triumphant Draco, his arms full of water pistols (some still sporting the odd creeper or two.) Glancing over the kid's shoulder, he saw leaves scattered everywhere and several overturned pots.
"Hail the conquering hero," he said with a grin. "Place looks clean; all I found that looked out of place was this." He showed Draco the receipt. "Doesn't seem quite Crowley's style, though somehow a holy assassin who reads smut in his spare time seems not quite on, either. Still. Might be worth mentioning." He tucked the receipt into Draco's breast pocket. "Ready to clear out?"
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2005-10-12 03:23 am (UTC)Accompanied by the sounds of Draco's epic struggle, John wandered through the disturbingly clean rooms of the ultramodern flat, shaking his head at the stark minimalist decor. The place looked like one of those showcase homes--someplace that had never been occupied, but was just there to remind real people what lousy housekeepers they were. He supposed demonic powers must make the housework easy, if not totally unnecessary, but still...
It was this unnatural cleanliness that finally drew his attention to a small slip of paper peeking out from beneath the edge of a decorative table. John bent and picked it up. It was a receipt from a book shop--and not, he noted with interest, Aziraphale's.
Let There be Lust, by Misty Moore, he read, then incredulously read it again. What the fuck? Sounds like some sappy romance novel.
He couldn't picture Crowley taking an interest in that kind of rubbish. Though admittedly, he thought he'd seen a couple of romances lying around when he'd first visited the demon up at the Manor. He nearly binned the thing, but decided at the last minute to hold on to it, just in case it turned out to be important.
Returning to the living room with nothing more to show for his efforts, he was met by a drenched and bedraggled but triumphant Draco, his arms full of water pistols (some still sporting the odd creeper or two.) Glancing over the kid's shoulder, he saw leaves scattered everywhere and several overturned pots.
"Hail the conquering hero," he said with a grin. "Place looks clean; all I found that looked out of place was this." He showed Draco the receipt. "Doesn't seem quite Crowley's style, though somehow a holy assassin who reads smut in his spare time seems not quite on, either. Still. Might be worth mentioning." He tucked the receipt into Draco's breast pocket. "Ready to clear out?"