The food was better than I expected, it was turkey with spiced apples and a beer, but even so, America was still in its infancy, and consequently still developing its food, so the food was not great, especially compared to all of the things I'd had before. It was more the beer I wanted, I don't know why I got food. Maybe it reminded me of the angel, whom I hadn't seen in quite some time.
Anyway, a terrible feeling washed over me. I scrambled to think what could have possibly caused it. I had been doing all of my tempting well enough, there was lots of that to be done in America, and I had done it. No, it couldn't be hell after me, or any other demons. It probably wasn't Heaven, they didn't concern themselves with the likes of me. That meant it was the angel.
I hurried out of that tavern so quickly, to get in the woods where no one would see me, and concentrated, trying to find Aziraphale, who must've been in grave danger. It took some time, but I eventually found her to be in Paris. Paris. PARIS! Oh, god! Without a moment's more notice, I miracled myself away to Paris, wherever the angel was.
I appeared in a dark cell. I had made myself invisible, giving me the upper hand, so I could observe the situation before making any calls.
There was a big, fat man standing in front of Aziraphale, obstructing my view of her. He had finished speaking to her in French, and then surged forward towards her, getting too close for my comfort; I balled my fists.
Aziraphale brought her hands up, trying to push the man away, and began speaking laughably poor French. "C'est un grand…mistake-uh, erreur." She corrected. "Bit out of practice at the French." She muttered. "Um…" Were it not for the gravity of the situation, I would have burst out on the floor, laughing with tears, considering the fact that Aziraphale had learned French several times over the years, but it never managed to stick for more than a few centuries. She was better at languages like Chinese and Japanese.
Mercifully, the fat man cut her off, saying, "I speak English." I could hear Aziraphale breathe a sigh of relief. They were interrupted by the crashing and slicing of the guillotine outside.
"Listen to that." The big man said. "The fall of the guillotine blade. Is it not terrible?" He asked cynically. Aziraphale stared in disbelief, dumbfounded that the man was on her side. "Yes. Yes! Cutting off that poor woman's head, terrible!"
Unfortunately, the man, the executioner, did not share the same concerns as the angel. "It is Pierre. An amateur. Always he let go of the rope too soon. You are lucky that it is I, Jean-Claude, who will remove your traitorous head from your shoulders." Aziraphale looked horrified, but nevertheless persisted.
"Look, this is all a terrible mistake." She tried again. "I don't think you understand-" But 'Jean-Claude' did not give her the time of day.
"I have good news for you. You are the 999th aristo to die at the guillotine by my hand. But the first English." What an arrogant bastard, I thought idly. Aziraphale tried to smile and look grateful, but not even she could pull it off.
"Now…" Jean-Claude said, going to stand behind Aziraphale, who stood up indignantly. "Please, no!" She insisted. "Dreadful mistake, discorporating me." She cried, staring off into the distance very sadly, beginning to accept her fate.
"Oh, it'll be a complete nightmare." She muttered. The sound of the guillotine resounded off the dungeon walls. Jean-Claude turned to the window, smiling, probably about to make some dumb comment about how wonderful the guillotine was, when I decided I'd had enough. I made him freeze in his idiotic position, although Aziraphale didn't seem to think anything was wrong, merely that he had stopped for a moment.
"Animals." She muttered disgustedly. It was at that moment when I decided to make my presence known.
"Animals don't kill each other with clever machines, angel, only humans do that." I reasoned, lounging lazily along the wall of the cell by the door.
"Crowley." Aziraphale mumurmed. I could practically hear the exuberant delight in her voice as she turned around to greet me, which I could then see plainly written all across her face; I could also see her ridiculous get-up, which was undoubtedly the reason for her being thrown in jail. She had on a soft, buttery yellow dress (one that emphasized her pale complexion, which was not ideal given that was a characteristic attributed to the wealthy) and an expensive looking one at that, with ruffles along the edges and a corset around her waist, even a giant hoop skirt. I could feel myself blushing as I took in the low-cut neckline of the dress, which was perfectly reasonable and in accordance with the high, French fashion, but it still allowed me to see the tops of her chest; I swallowed hard, looking away from that region of her body, and up to her hair instead, a much safer place. Her hair was still the same golden color, arranged with some French curls on one side, and the rest going down into a wavy ponytail on the opposite times. Aziraphale was absolutely gorgeous, but sometimes she could be a real dunce.
Upon seeing my casual stance and dirty clothes, Aziraphale gave me a reproachful stare. "Oh, good Lord." She said, disapprovingly. Yes, well, I'm not the one in jail, sweetheart, I thought amused.
"What the deuce are you doing locked up in the Bastille?" I demanded, trying to keep the worry out of my tone. "I thought you were opening a book shop?" I asked, concerned. If I'd known Aziraphale was going to be over by herself in the midst of one of the bloodiest revolutions of history, I most certainly would have found a way to make sure that I was over here as well.
"Well I was." Aziraphale began innocently. Actually innocently though, not the innocent tone I used when tempting. "I got peckish." She added, looking down at the floor, in guilt it would seem.
"Peckish?" I asked, not liking the sound of where this was going. "Well, if you must know, it was the crepes. You can't get decent ones anywhere but Paris. And the brioche." She added sitting down.
I sighed deeply. "So you just popped across the Channel during a revolution because you wanted something to nibble? Dressed like that?" I asked in disbelief.
"I have standards!" Aziraphale defended herself and her outrageous fashion choices. She looked around, outside as the guillotine, before continuing, "I'd heard they were getting a bit carried away over here, but…" She trailed off sadly, as another person was killed by the guillotine.
"Yeah, this is not getting carried away." I said, as if explaining things to a small child, which Aziraphale was like sometimes. Honestly, she could be so naïve. And then there was the fact that she was one of the younger angels, practically a baby compared to most other demons and angels, and I would be lying if I said I didn't tease her about that every now and then.
"This is cutting off lots of people's heads very efficiently with a big head-cutting machine." I resumed. "Why didn't you just perform another miracle and go home?" I asked, trying to convey to the angel exactly just how much I cared for her.
Aziraphale looked a tad bit embarrassed as she answered, "I was reprimanded last month." I raised my eyebrows at that, deciding to loosen up a bit on the poor angel.
"They said I'd performed too many frivolous miracles. Got a strongly worded note from Gabriel." She shuddered at that last part, and shook her head, as if to clear the bad memories away.
"Well you're lucky I was in the area." I said, fibbing lightly. America and Paris were close, in the grand scheme of things. "I suppose I am." Aziraphale agreed, looking rather guilty. "Why are you here?" She asked, changing the subject, which didn't go unnoticed by me.
"My lot sent me a commendation for outstanding job performance." I bragged slightly, while also avoiding the question. Aziraphale was standing up a second later, looking back and forth between the ongoing executions outside, and me. "So all this is your demonic work?" She asked, plainly horrified.
I hurried to correct her mistake, not wanting the angel to think so poorly of me even for an instant. "No! The humans thought it up themselves! Nothing to do with me!" I cried out, defending myself.
I couldn't stand the sight of Aziraphale in chains any longer. I raised my arms and snapped my fingers in her direction, causing them to fall off. As they clattered about on the floor, Aziraphale rubbed her wrists, because God knows how long she had been a prisoner. I had only been alerted of the danger she was in a few minutes ago, but I suspected that was because they were literally just about to haul her off to the guillotine.
"Well, I suppose I should say thank you for the uh, rescue." She said sweetly, turning to express her gratitude.
"Don't say that." I cautioned in a low, dangerous voice, standing up to emphasize my point. "If my people hear I rescued an angel, I'll be the one in trouble, and my lot do not send rude notes." Aziraphale looked disappointed, but she didn't let that phase her.
"Well, anyway, I'm very grateful. What about if I buy you lunch?" She suggested coyly, innocent enough.
"Looking like that?" I asked disapprovingly, staring at the outfit that had landed the angel in the whole mess in the first place. She sighed deeply, looking over herself before causing her extravagant dress to be replaced by a more acceptable outfit, consisting of haphazardly sewn together rags and cloths. Her hair also changed, tumbling freely and messily over her shoulder, instead of all combed neatly in curls. Aziraphale rolled her eyes at her distasteful new clothes. I raised my eyebrows again, as she finished the miracle.
"Well, barely counts as a miracle, really." She attempted to justify, more to herself though than me, it sounded like. We both turned our attention to the fat mean, Jean-something, as we heard approaching footsteps. I made a gesture with my hands, causing Aziraphale and I to become invisible, and putting the fat executioner in aristocratic clothes. He began freaking out, sputtering out half-finished sentences in French, as the guards came to take him away.
"Dressed like that, he's asking for trouble." I whispered to Aziraphale, who grinned in response. "What's for lunch?" I asked, turning my attention away from the men in front of us and back to my angelic friend.
A smile began to take over her face, as she said pleasantly, "What would you say to some crepes?" I laughed freely, as we were invisible and inaudible, even to Heaven and Hell. I put my arm around Aziraphale, leading her out of the prison and in the direction of her crepe restaurant.
