Going out was Aziraphale’s speciality. He loved day trips, when he was able to fit them in. Only problem was, he didn’t have a car. Usually he’d get Crowley to drive him back, but the demon apparently had other plans to do today. And the Ritz was quite a way from the bookshop. So, instead, he had asked you to pick him up. You had known him for a long time, hell, practically as long as Crowley had known him.

Waiting outside the restaurant, his hands tucked neatly infront of him as usual, Aziraphale’s gaze idly shifted to the sky. The sound of a car pulling up infront of him soon interrupted his bored daydreaming, though.