[ This isn't new. It certainly isn't new that, while having imaginable power - at least when you look at it from a human point of view - that Aziraphale has an affinity for doing things the Human Way.
The newfound "freedom", only in name and rarely in practice, had not changed this. And, certainly, neither did the near Armaggedon. Safe for, of course, the lifting weight of sudden check ups and the pressure of making up new lies.
No, life moves on - as it does, as it will - and he's otherwise occupying himself with the idea of, perhaps, finding somewhere a bit more peaceful to stay. Somewhere outside of London, but not out of reach. Can't be letting go of all the wonders in that bustling city.
Just somewhere more quiet. Perhaps with a garden.
Perhaps he should have made his decision the first dozen of times he's brought it up before. ]
The little antique shop is not on the evening's agenda, but it is on the way to the bar, and it would only be open for another half-hour, and it has a rare book collection. Aziraphale stares into the window, starry-eyed.
"Just a moment? Please?" he asks Crowley, hand already on the door's handle. "Look, they have old records, too. Maybe you'll find something you like."
For a change, the mansion was quiet and the evening was quiet - save for the occasional buzz of cicadas. Summer was truly here and as she and Logan sat in companionable silence, Ororo was struck with the sudden impulse to laugh.
Every few pages of her book, she would peer over the top of it and see Logan sitting with his own thoughts, sipping his beer and looking as welcoming as an oncoming thunderstorm.
Appropriately enough, she did not mind the rain or his deceptively dour expression. It was still kind of funny.
[Can't be anything other than the Grouchy one, here. Will probably get along more with "cheerful" maniacs rather than completely sweet people, but, hey, any sort of relationship with him is probably crack and will involve some defrosting, so.]
Page 1 of 2