The Yayoi Kusama event at the Botanical Gardens had been on his agenda for ages, partially for work, well before the whole Bureau memory thing had began. It wasn't until the day before, sorting through the still raw images of a tender memory of Anthony from what seemed to be the 1960s, that it dawned on him: Anthony might be there. In a suit. Looking extraordinarily handsome. Perhaps they could find a moment to themselves to discuss the memory--
You go too fast for me, Crowley.
And its implications. Dining at the Ritz? Having a picnic together? Gifting Anthony the means of his own destruction just so he wouldn't pursue it himself? It was fragile, tender, perhaps even (in a certain light) a little romantic.
They needed to have that discussion. But he would rather not do it somewhere so public and certainly not in front of--
Her. Grace. Oh, she was very pretty, almost angelic. Aziraphale felt immediately frumpy and a bit dull in comparison.
He straightened up his suit, smoothed down his bow tie, tidied his hair, and squared up his shoulders. Putting on a bright smile, he walked over and tapped Anthony on the shoulder, then stepped around to his side.
1.
You go too fast for me, Crowley.
And its implications. Dining at the Ritz? Having a picnic together? Gifting Anthony the means of his own destruction just so he wouldn't pursue it himself? It was fragile, tender, perhaps even (in a certain light) a little romantic.
They needed to have that discussion. But he would rather not do it somewhere so public and certainly not in front of--
Her. Grace. Oh, she was very pretty, almost angelic. Aziraphale felt immediately frumpy and a bit dull in comparison.
He straightened up his suit, smoothed down his bow tie, tidied his hair, and squared up his shoulders. Putting on a bright smile, he walked over and tapped Anthony on the shoulder, then stepped around to his side.
"Anthony! Fancy meeting you here."