lifeaftr | Closed

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Who: Aziraphale, Crowley, and Kravitz
What: Shots
When: Early Feb.
Where: Denny
Warnings: Alcohol

Another month on this island, this one perhaps the hardest yet. Crowley was well-stressed, and had gotten quite creative when it came to entertaining himself recently in the wake of nearly watching his best friend succumb to a deathly infection of flowers of all things. Still, he yearned for something normal, or however close one could come to such a word in this dreaded place. For Crowley, that meant alcohol.

On his way to Denny, he stopped in the library where he was sure to find Aziraphale working alongside Kravitz on whatever it was they did all day. Crowley would be jealous if he cared about books at all, but he found that it was much more fun to pretend to be a snake deity in the woods these days. He did, however, spur-of-the-moment find himself inviting Kravitz to join them, instructing the two of them to 'Finish whatever scripture [they] were studying and meet [him] at Denny to get proper drunk,' which seemed to-the-point.

Crowley found himself a corner in Denny, after trading some root vegetables he'd grown for a bottle of questionably-brewed liquor, and waved to the others as he saw them enter. Three cups were set aside and without even waiting for the other men to have a seat at the table, Crowley was pouring them each a shot.

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For as much as Aziraphale (and by extension, Crowley) have been around the library, Kravitz isn't so bold as to assume they enjoy his company in any way. It isn't personal, of course-- he's an awkward person at best, and kind of a disaster at worst, and they need to work with him for the information he holds. He's been enjoying the company in what was otherwise a rather empty space, but there's nothing in him that would be so bold as to invite himself along to any later day outing, assuming they want to spend time with each other at some point.

All that is to say, Kravitz doesn't quite understand what it is Crowley's said when he refers to them in plural, and it takes a bit of light confusion to correctly go with Aziraphale to the Denny and know he's actually included. Not that he knows how to do Normal Friend Hangouts, but... surely he can figure that out, right? Yeah. Yeah, he can do that.

He starts this by getting to the table and bowing at Crowley like an entire champion. "Thank you for inviting me to this with the both of you-- it's quite kind to share your resources in this manner."

Great start. We Are Starting Off Great.

Aziraphale has been quite enjoying his time in the library, keeping himself busy with any repairs and reinforcements that he can give the building and the items in it, and Kravitz is good company to keep. It's true that when they first met Aziraphale was mostly focused on information about the islands, but he finds the man to be quite pleasant to talk to.

When Crowley shows up to deliver them the drive-by invitation, Aziraphale is instantly reminded of how much he could do with some alcohol right about now. After the last few months, and, specifically, after nearly dying - or, rather, turning into some horrid flora-based aggressive husk of a being -, a drink sounds absolutely ideal.

It's with that mentality that he just merrily rambles along to the reaper as they arrive at Denny, very much in high spirits. He's about to sit down when Kravitz takes to thanking Crowley, which does actually cause him to pause.

"Ah...my dear boy, there's no need for such formalities." Which is funny enough, coming from the angel, but his tone is polite and gentle.

Crowley peers up with disdain as he sees Kravitz taking a bow. Formalities were one thing, but this sort of thing gave the demon nearly as much second-hand embarrassment as when the angel begins doing coin tricks. He grunts for a moment in response, then pushes shots in both of their directions.

"Drink all of your awkward tendencies away, and we'll call it even." he huffs, turning to his own cup to fill it. He's barely sat the bottle down before he's tossed his own cup back.

When he's chided by Aziraphale for being too formal, Kravitz knows he's taking this much too seriously. He clears his throat, a little nod in the angel's direction before he's sliding into a seat and grabbing the shot without hesitancy, knocking it back with just a little shudder of the bite of it. See, he's cool, he can party with the big boys.

He knocks his head forward once it's drained and only wipes his mouth a little bit with his finger before he's speaking again. "Right, I-- right. Sorry, I don't... well, I was going to say I don't get out much, but there isn't really an out on these islands." He knows full well this is making him sound like more of a chump, but he's still trying to salvage it. "Er, thank you for inviting me to... let loose, and all."

Too bad. He still sounds like a nerd. Please pour him more booze before he just explodes.

It's okay to sound like a nerd, unless Aziraphale has some sort of special pass that no one else--well. Never mind that.

He gives Crowley a glance that all but says be nice, but he's far more focused on drinking whatever was set down in front of him. It's still in his mouth when a couple of curious expressions flash through his face in judgement of what exactly he just put in his body.

He clears his throat, setting his glass down. "Well, breaks are healthy for the mind and body. Specially in these conditions, I would say." Which is to say, this sucks, he is very stressed, and rather homesick, please insert alcohol.

"I rather think there is only 'out' in this place." Crowley mutters, already refilling their glasses. Their so-called homes weren't even... well, comfortable really. Crowley's made great efforts to bring comfort to the cottage that he and Aziraphale shared, but only so much can be done with such little resources, and Crowley truly remembers how much he absolutely hated living without technology.

"Doesn't matter, does it? Drink up. I paid good radishes for this." he says, taking his shot.

"I suppose if that definition of out is just for homes." Kravitz won't belabor this further, but he still can't help saying it. Leave it to him to be an absolute dork and have some semantic comeback for every conversation.

He idly looks towards the bottle, trying to discern a label, but seeing as there's nothing he instead inspects the liquid for a moment. "You said you traded radishes for this? Because you may have gotten radishes back, depending on what you asked for." Kravitz sighs, drinking it down regardless despite the face he makes while doing so and the heavy breath he heaves afterwards.

"Ugh. If only you two were around for some of our nicer destinations. What I wouldn't give to make it back to the winery on Io that had the delightful cellar of offerings- it was lovely." He's looking a bit off to the distance, recalling that with an obvious fondness. "Perhaps we'll go back, after it all- we seem to be revisiting quite a number of islands, so it may come around in the shuffle."

Ah, it's not Heaven Aziraphale misses. Heaven can stay where it is. And as much as he may fuss about actual comfort and how the misses most things that made Earth his true home, at least he didn't end up here alone. He's thankful for that.

And he's clearly learning to adapt, by the fact that he doesn't really complain about this curious drink. Just gives Crowley a thankful nod and goes about nursing the second shot a bit more slowly.

"Oh, that sounds wonderful. It would be a bit better than some of the one's we've seen around lately." Umui, Mu, he's looking at you. Specially that first one. "Do they not usually come back?"

Crowley chooses to ignore the semantics argument, he doesn't have the energy for it. Doesn't have the energy for a lot of things lately, which is frankly not something that he's used to.

"Asked for whatever's drinkable. And alcoholic." he replies, leaning back in his seat. He has to control himself to not immediately pour himself a third shot. It doesn't go down easy, but being sober isn't a whole lot easier. He sighs, hearing of the wineries, "What I might give for some decent wine.."

Aziraphale is asking the right questions, he guesses, but if Crowley wants to relax for once at all he'd rather they not discuss stupid islands and their stupid magic. Not that there's a whole lot else to discuss. Maybe he could bring up Aziraphale's infernal pet wobbledog. Just thinking about that thing makes Crowley gag.

He doesn't press on the idea if this classifies as drinkable, instead imagining the aftertaste in his mouth is that nice wine. If he imagines hard enough, maybe it'll manifest. "Mmmm, they have been recently. I haven't seen a new island in quite a bit of time, now that you mention it. I believe the last one was back with that dragon creature we had such a time with."

Kravitz waves his hand as if to dismiss his own fantasy before continuing. "Very few of them are just fun, though. In fact, I'd wager none of them have come without some kind of annoyance, though there has absolutely been a sliding scale." He puts his cup down for Crowley to refill as he wishes, since he isn't commanding the alcohol at this point. "But! You know. Beggars can't be choosers or something. Let us be thankful we're here with something to drink for right now, hm?"

"Hear hear." Aziraphale raises his cup, and carefully downs the rest of his drink, this time cringing only slightly. He pushes the cup closer to the demon as well.

"I suppose not everything is unpleasant. It's been interesting, meeting people from so many different worlds." He quite likes Earth, misses it a lot, and there are certainly a few humans around that have him wondering if they come from the same place or not, but meeting so many other creatures he's never seen has been fascinating.

"What about you, Kravitz? What sort of place do you come from?"

Crowley takes the hint, leaning forward to pour them each another shot.

"I don't care if they're new or not, they're all new to me. And all equally annoying." he replies, even though he's certainly aware it's not quite true. Many of them haven't posed immediate threats at all, or just caused minor discomfort or distraction, while others posed real threats. Crowley can't remember the names of any of them, so it hardly matters.

"You mean other prisoners." he corrects the angel.

"Prisoners implies a certain level of... punishment." He twists his wrist as if to try and explain the nuances of it, and doesn't quite get there. "But it does feel personal, so I certainly won't stand to correct."

Instead, Kravitz tilts his head towards Aziraphale, a small smile on his lips. "I come from a world called Faerün. I've gotten the impression we're not much more technologically handled than these islands, though there's quite a bit of magic that sets us apart." He chuckles as he reaches for his drink. "Of course, I've also seen more of it than most being, you know, the emissary of death and all."

Aziraphale glances at Crowley over his comment as he reaches for his refreshed drink, but the way he flattens his lip suggests that he does not entirely disagree with the demon's assessment. And he avoids making comments about the part about punishment; that's a whole can of worms he personally doesn't want to get into right now.

"Faerün. How interesting." And he does sound genuinely fascinated, for what it might matter. "Ah, yes, you're a reaper, yes? We do have someone in our world such as yourself. He's not quite as approachable, I'm afraid."

"Lad thinks he has a sense of humor, though, doesn't he?" he replies, referring to their own reaper, as he pours his own refill. He takes his shot without hesitation, shivering slightly. It's not pleasant, but it's potent, and he can already feel a bit tipsy. This shows slightly on his face, which has relaxed a good deal, but the real tell would be his eyes, which are still conveniently tucked behind his sunglasses.

Crowley's lips sputter as he leans back in his chair, reclining with a stretch. "Plenty to miss about home, but technology stands out to me the most."

"I doubt many other universes operate as mine do. Or rather, I shudder to think what the status of everyone's death system is if there is supposed to be a reaper assigned to the case. Some of the stories I've heard here are absolutely abysmal management." Kravitz downs whatever's left in his glass, because now he's just getting progressively more slammed to fend off any embarrassment due to not knowing how to hold a proper conversation. "But you know, bygones, bygones. Frankly I think worlds really need that personal touch. Otherwise it's just... callous. And often wrong."

While Aziraphale doesn't quite share the same personal attachment towards technology as Crowley, he still sighs faintly and wistfully, missing that place that had been more of a home to him than Heaven ever was. There were islands there, too. If only they had ended up in one of those.

But Kravitz's talk about reapers and reaping does catch his curiosity, although he's not really knowledgeable about the actual work that goes into catching and sorting out souls. Angels are really just meant to influence them into salvation, not to be involved in actual passings.

"You seem rather proud of your work." Indeed not a criticism. "Do you work alone, then?"

Crowley's due diligence to refill each glass timely doesn't skip a beat, and soon he's staring at Kravitz and Aziraphale as they're locked into their little conversation curiously. The two of them are quite alike, but there's something that sets them apart in Crowley's mind, but maybe that has more to do with his history with one of them than he thinks.

He sips again at his drink, whinging slightly at it's taste, then slamming down his glass with a twisted pout.

"What is this, speed dating?"

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dabs my way in

ALL ABOARD THE LATE TRAIN

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you wanna talk about the late train i am So Sorry

this thread might be cursed

ayyyy

god we out here huh

we somewhere

WE.

W E

us

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