fandomtownies | The Devil's Nest

Was being polished to within an inch of it's life. After which, Neil was kicking back with his books until someone needed a drink.

Someone did, in fact, need a drink. A lot of drinks, possibly. But he'd start with one.

Bottle.

Aziraphale approached the bar, almost backing out when he saw that it was one of his students tending, and then thought about what Wilson would do to him if he came back home without having spoken to Lucifer. Obviously, facing Neil was the lesser of two really bad scary things.

"Er...bottle of scotch, please?"

Neil smiled brightly and hopped off the stool he was perched upon.

"Good evening, Mr. Phale."

A bottle of scotch and a highball glass were swiftly set on the bar counter in front of the angel.

"Here you go."

"Good evening, Mr Perry," Aziraphale replied a little sheepishly. "Please don't let me interrupt you, I'm just going to sit here and ~~get very very drunk~~ have a bit of scotch."

Although he couldn't quite help craning his neck and peering at the book Neil had been reading, even while he was pouring out his first glass.

Byron tonight, sorry no Wilde.

"Of course, Mr. Phale. Let me know if I can get you anything else."

Neil ascribed to the school of, don't poke at the customers style of bartending. Particularly when it seemed as if many of the customers had sharp pokey objects that they might stab you with in return if you bothered them too much.

Byron was an acceptable substitute.

"I will, my dear, thank you." Aziraphale smiled again as the young man went back to his poetry, and then settled in to nurse his scotch.

Okay, actually, he downed it rather quickly. In fact, Neil hadn't had much time to sit down before he was being called on to fetch another bottle. And then a third.

It takes a lot to get an angel drunk.

"If" someone needed a drink? Life sucked. What else was Squall gonna do?

He sat down in his usual seat and waved Neil over. "Margarita. A big one."

Neil smiled warmly and nodded.

"Of course, Sir. Would you like frozen or on the rocks? Salt or no salt?"

Squall shrugged. "Surprise me."

Looking at Squall thoughtfully, Neil decided he definitely looked like an on the rocks, extra tequilla, salt sort of fellow and so that's what he made him (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v653/Laekin/LimeFruit-426587.jpg).

"Here you go, Sir." Neil set the drink neatly on a barnapkin.

Has now been cleaned and neatened to within a millimeter of it's life. Enjoy your shadowy shadow space.

And the pool tables ... maybe even the piano!

Once the angel was well and truly in his cups, he found himself relocating to the lounge. He'd actually been on his way to the pool tables, but had gotten distracted by a stack of neatly arranged cocktail napkins that seemed to beg to be made into wee origami shapes.

Which was why, numerous bottles of scotch -- and a shot of tequila or two -- later, Aziraphale had a small army of half-dollar-sized paper ducks lined up in neat rows in front of him.

Just ordinary origami ducks, so far. He hadn't actually gotten around to animating any of them yet. That didn't stop him from talking to them, though. It appeared to be one of the angel's odder habits.

"Wha' you have t' do's just what you think's right, is all," he patiently explained to his silent paper audience. "An' let th' Plan take care'f th' rest."

"Or, follow your own plan," Lucifer said dryly to the wee origami ducks. There was a drunk angel in his bar and he had yet to be attacked in some foolish attempt avenge the honor of the doctor.

Interesting.

And from the cheerful grin on Aziraphale's face when he looked up at the Adversary, a foolish attempt at vengeance wasn't likely to be forthcoming.

"Lucy-fer! Hullo!"

He waved his hand in what was probably a more sweeping gesture than intended at the other chair, knocking a few of the little ducks awry. "I may've had a lit'l too much scotch."

Lucifer raised an eyebrow at his antics. "Yes, I see that. And my good scotch at that." He took a seat across from the angel, watching him carefully.

"Is this a celebration or a mourning?"

Aziraphale blinked. "'Course. Why ge' drunk on bad scotch?"

Then he blinked again, and decided that maybe he was a little too far gone for intelligent conversation. Easy enough to take care of, though. It wasn't as if he'd actually been trying to drown his sorrows or anything, after all.

With a shake of his head, the angel banished a little of the alcohol from his system, leaving enough to maintain that nice comfortable buzz. Then he leaned his chin on his hand and straightened up the little ducks.

Huh. When had he made little ducks?

"Maybe more of a...dose of liquid courage, I suppose. Like to share?"

Somewhere between the scotch and the tequila most likely.

Lucifer poured some into a glass that wasn't there before, sipping it as he watched the angel thoughtfully. "Courage?"

The talk with Wilson earlier in the evening had eased a lot of Aziraphale's worries, and the alcohol had relaxed him, so instead of fretting over how to answer the question he merely shrugged.

"As you do. When you're trying to do something that makes you nervous, but you still want to do it, and you know you'll back down if you're just left to yourself, but you also know you'll be sorry if you do back down."

He took a breath. Even though he didn't technically need it. "That was a lot of words."

He leaned forward on the table, glass of scotch covering the smirk on his face.

"And just what is it you are nervous to do?"

Because Aziraphale would have to actually say it for anything to happen.

Aziraphale gazed openly at Lucifer. "Talk to you," he said. "You scare me. Not in a bad way, and as I told James, you should. But I'm not brave like James is. I hide from things."

Then he gave one shoulder a little shrug again, a frown line creasing between his brows. What he wouldn't gives sometimes, to be glib.

Absently nudging one of the little ducks around the table with his finger, Aziraphale finally picked it up and held it in his palm. He tilted his head and looked at it, then leaned in and blew a warm breath over it. As the tiny paper creature fluttered its wings, he held it out toward Lucifer.

Setting down the glass, Lucifer accepted the duck, holding it gently in his hand. He certainly hoped it wouldn't act like the last ones in his club.

"And how well has hiding worked for you so far?"

*Still doing the condo sold dance of GLEE!!!*

*dances with you!*

*Glees and does the Lindy Hop with you!*

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The Dance Floor - 5/24

OOC

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