It was a romantic notion, creating and naming the stars, and if it had been real, Aziraphale would think him properly cool and be suitably enchanted. But then Aziraphale was also charmed by the whole awkward pumpkin thing, so clearly his idea of cool may be a little off kilter.

"Oh, certainly," he said as the rain picked just up enough to make leaving the little stone mill now an unreasonable choice.

If he believed in omens, the dreary drizzle may have seemed an ill one.

But he didn't, and Anthony was warm and close, and very distracting, and the stone walls kept out the spring storm, and with it, the Garden. It was just the two of them.

"However I like it--" He gently pushed Anthony away, stepping over to the basket to open the lid and satisfy that demonic curiosity. Aziraphale suspected Anthony would get a lot of mileage out of being the demon when he was feeling like owning the moniker. Actually, he suspected they both would and as right as it felt, he wondered if there was something perverse to leaning into it as hard as they were, embracing the connection as thoroughly in their private lives. "I prefer to not rush picnicking, so I suspect we may need to get to it, or you won't time to find out," he said pointedly, "given that you'll be due back to work before long."