There was a thud, either from a book hitting the ground or from a thousand collective ethereal or diabolic heads exploding. But there was no rumbling crackle of thunder, no bolt from the blue or flames issuing from the ground to set right this imbalance between opposing forces.

Light and dark intermingled in the kiss, inspiring each other with that finally acknowledged spark that had always existed between them. The hand that held Azriaphale's tightened as if by doing that alone it could strength this growing bond and Crowley's feathers laced between the angel's making it more difficult to tell where good ended and evil began.

And the poor gaping ice cream vendor looked on, the sundea she held out to a young customer turning to melt in her hand.