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Character Meet and Greet
I. Exploring Main Street! Take a trip through a little town taken straight from 1890's America. Visit the shops, dine at the restaurants- but don't forget you are here on a mission. As an Apprentice, you will need to gather some supplies. A weapon, or tool for producing magic.
But we understand if that corn dog cart on Market Street is your first stop.
II. Apprentice Class 101! Practice your spell casting and weaponship on the open commons behind the Firehouse. Sparring, casting or just general confusion abound here. Try not to hit anything or...anyone, the paint on the infirmary is still drying.
III. Look out! A level 2 corroded monster has managed to get onto Main Street! Protect the citizens and defeat the cur, and please watch the damage, the paint is still wet!
IV. One Little Spark! Go ahead, show us the strength of your imagination and come up with your own scenarios. Just, stay out of the Corroded Lands...if possible.
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"Surely there must be somewhere worth eating at. Though honestly, what I want most is a stiff drink and a bath? Care to join me?" He's trying to be flippant and jovial but sounds a bit strained, adrenaline still going through him.
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"A long hot soak would be good for this shoulder."
It had been an invitation to join in but some how he doubted the angel had really heard the way that had come across. Booze, bath, and some one to share that with... come on! He had to know! Even Azriaphale couldn't be that naive!
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"I meant with the drink, obviously." A bath... well curiously that concept had gotten rather intimate. It didn't used to be. But things were different now and feelings as well and it was just best to not.
He realized he was still holding Crowley's hand and let go as if it had burned him, straightening his vest.
"But I'll let you have first go at the bath."
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"Obviously."
Crowley reached out to open the door, just to allow Azriaphale to proceed ahead of him into the hall so he could look for that elevator of his. He would take that first go at the bath. Take it and never apologize for using most of the hot water.
Wait.
"That does mean we have to find a room first. They have to have places better than this one?"
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But even if there was, as it turned out, there wasn't much they could afford. Even together, the most they could come up with was a cramped little hotel room with a single bed. In all honesty it felt a bit like a set up from a very lurid novel-- but the less thought about that the better. Anyway at least it's clean and at least what is displayed on the room service menu looks edible if not refined. There's hardly room to turn about and spread ones wings in but... well... be grateful for the small miracles he supposes.
He missed his shop and Soho and everything about the world that made it so delightful. But now, he winced slightly as he tried to massage his wing joint again, he was feeling decidedly more-- well-- human than he felt comfortable with.
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"We should rest here for a few hours, use the time to get cleaned up," he bobbed his head towards a small table that had several leaflets on it and a touch of snark slipped into his word, "Read the brochures."
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"Harder, dear, I'm not spun glass, you know. I can take quite a pounding." He chuckles at his little joke. "A little to the left.. Just a smidge more... oh yess." He closes his eyes, humming softly at the sensation, it hurts a little but it feels so very good.
"Slap me in a room with hands like yours and I would fall in seconds." He stretches his wing to give him slightly better access and sighs again in bliss.
There was hardly room enough in the shower to turn around, let alone cleaned up. And as for the brochures, well... he was sure they would be entertaining. But just for this moment, none of that mattered.
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"Fall in seconds?"
If only!
"I doubt anyone's around to keep score on that anymore."
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If only he hadn't said anything. If only he hadn't repeated that because it makes Aziraphale tense all over again, sending a hasty thought to whomever may have heard it that he hadn't meant it and especially not when a demon was giving him a heavenly massage.
Yet what is said is said.
"But they will... Eventually." And he is not going to get into something that it will be too hard to get out of.
"Thank you that was quite nice." He moves away, folding his wings behind his back and it does feel much better.
"Well! I suppose one of us ought to rinse off. Why don't you do that and I'll fetch something to eat? I'm getting a bit rumbly myself and could use a little nosh."
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Though as he thought about it abandoning Earth and taking up on some other world with Azriaphale did sound like a good idea. No more angels, no more demons, no more Antichrist... just the two of them.
He didn't push it further than that however, just lumbered back over to the chair to lean against it as he pressed a hand to his shoulder. Doubtless it sported a large purple crescent shaped bruise where the can had struck him and it had hit with such force that it was swelling very nicely now. He snarled as he realized he could barely lift the arm at all.
"You'd better use it."
He would just flop back into this chair for the evening and try not to wince. With such a limited movement there was little chance of his taking a shower as he wasn't about to with his jacket and shirt on and he couldn't exactly remove them.
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The balance was essential. Too much of either and things...things went horribly.
And then that. That big pained brooding flop in the chair moment. Honestly. It made his heart ache.
"Absolutely not. Listen-- I'll go out and get food and then I am helping you-- So you may as well get out your resentment now because I'm not giving you a choice in the matter."
It was his fault he was in pain after all, and even if it wasn't--! Even if he couldn't-- even if they couldn't-- He could at least look after Crowley without having anyone breathing down his neck.
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Well, it made him question it, apparently it made Azriaphale run back to the status quo.
"I don't need your help, angel."
He did. He even wanted it.
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He went out the door in a flurry, annoyed that he was annoyed. He expected it, of course. And Crowley didn't need his help perhaps but he needed someone's help and given that Aziraphale was the only someone around, God help him, he was going to help Crowley get better even if... even if something!
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And finally sulking about not having any plants to talk to about all this sulking!
There was a television in the room, one of those huge older models that the hotel had been too cheap to ever replace. Crowley grabbed the remote and turned it on. It was one of those TVs... where every single channel was static except for the one where there was a lot of screaming and moaning. Not really an angel-friendly sort of channel.
He decided to flick it off before Azriaphale returned. The angel did have to... this was the only room they could afford.
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But it could be a wiley ploy to keep him away. So he walked in boldly. After six thousand years, he had seen enough of humanity to know the birds and the bees and found sex in general to be a lovely time of emotional intimacy and sensation and yet-- there were always ways to surprise him.
"Good gracious! That is no way to treat a vegetable!"
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So he had messed up and forgot to listen for the sounds of Azriaphale's approach. Maybe the volume had been up too loud, but he couldn't really say he was getting much from this other than an appreciation of human creativity. He never would have dreamed of the carrot trick!
Crowley hit the power button and the greenhouse romp antics were silenced.
"You had some luck?"
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"Anyway, I've bought you some food and coffee. I can't promise how good they are but-- It's better than nothing I suppose. And also this." It's a jar with a little moon and star pattern on it.
"It's supposed to be a healing salve so we'll see it if works on you. Complain all you want, it's still happening." He is determined. He sets the jar aside.
"Let me help you out of your shirt."
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"That stuff? I've never seen it before."
The coffee smelled good. Coffee usually did, even the cheap stuff still had that same scent. The food on the other hand looked like it was about to seep entirely through the bag and wave at him. That was going to be... something....
He looked doubtfully between the food, the salve, and the angel.
"It'll be fine in the morning!"
Wasn't that always what humans said? It might get him out of this mess.
"I just need to sleep on it."
Not 'on' it really, he would be doing his best not to put any pressure on that shoulder at all.
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"Now are you going to aide me in this or am I going to have to take more drastic measures?"
He hopes not the latter as he's not quite sure what they are yet.
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As a demon he did have to react to that with some measure of snark and a bark of laugh. Angel's didn't 'drastic measure', not like demons did! At least this is what he believed of Azriaphale.
"You wouldn't know how to come up with a drastic measure!"
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He straightened, hands clasped in front of him and then gave Crowley a look full of all the sorrow and concern and just plain worry that he had in him.
"Let me help. Please?"
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"Oh.... that's low!"
He looked away but the worry in those blue eyes seemed to pierce right through him. Azriaphale was still watching him, still worrying, still sad. And Crowley knew the only way to get any sort or peace was to just give in.
"Fine! Just... stop looking at me like that. The last thing I need is word getting around I had an angel pitying me."
He even set about attempting the task on his own. One-handed he could at lest see to the bindings holding his leather jacket closed.
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"Just relax and think of Manchester." A faint smile at the joke. "Let me take care of this." It was easier with one pair of hands than two, and he had undressed a drunk or three in his time. Though the last was mostly dear Oscar, the poor thing.
The bruise makes him wince a little. He's not entirely sure what to do about it other than the salve. Healing was always a miracle away usually. Not that his kind would work on the demon anyway.
He took off his pinky ring so he wouldn't inadvertently scratch him and then rubbed in the goop in slow careful circles, careful not to look at him as he did so.
"You'll be right as rain in no time..." he murmured this, half to himself. It was part assurance, part prayer.
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Not if they knew about it.
He let Azriaphale have it his own way and quieted in his chair as much as he could, until inevitably the fabric tugged on the wrong muscle and he had to shout out of a sense of demonic self preservation.
"THAT HURTS!"
Wasn't Azriaphale's fault, it was just that sore. That cream, miraculous as it was, helped to soothe the aches as soon as it was applied. It was hot, then cold, icy hot even! A very strange combination that calmed those battered muscles and sent Crowley into a much more docile frame of mind.
Gradually his tense posture relaxed until he was practically lounging in that rickety wooden chair, shirtless, and gazing deeply at his guardian angel.
"Manchester," He chuckled, "Wouldn't have thought we would have ended up so far away from there."
Not entirely what was meant but it was true.
"I guess I should..." A pause for an uncertain look, "Thank you."
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"We'll be back soon enough." He caps the salve for later and then shakes his head. "It was nothing. Just doing my job." But his voice was soft and clearly he doesn't quite mean it was only that. He absently brushes a strand of red hair away from Crowely's forehead, then remembers himself.
"Right well. Food is there. Enjoy yourself. I am going to use the... the shower..." he makes a face. "With any luck I won't get stuck in it."
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