The clan crams the Bentley-but-now-actually-Bentlousine and sits as such: Maggie, Nina, and Anathema on the adult side, and Warlock, Adam, Pepper, Brian, and Wensleydale sit on the other side. The Bentlousine is immense and is decorated like a party bus that also captivates the peculiarities of the owner, the one-and-only Anthony Jophiel Crowley. The adult trio is individually sipping on a frozen strawberry margarita from the mini fridge, and if the teenagers want it, there are juices and sodas in there, too; Wensleydale has assisted himself to some fruit punch and snacks. The immortals don't know any better, so from observation of the Humans — and monitoring Aziraphale, in the man's case — they attempted to adhere to their guests to their best proficiency with beverages and sustenances.
"Thank you for the amenities, Mr. Crowley and Miss Muriel," comments the glasses-wearing chap with gratitude as he returns to his seat and secures his seatbelt. From the background, the others echo their appreciation.
As always, Crowley's Baby does most of the driving, so from the front seat, Crowley steals a glimpse through the already-open divider at the occupants and takes a characteristic notation of Warlock and Adam's expanding acquaintanceship with each other before closing it. He's squinting because the car's rear is dim, tinted, and replenished with neon lights, plus he's wearing his glasses to combat Texas's overbearing sun rays. The weather is in the cool, clear sky forecast, and he and Muriel have retained the Celsius-to-Fahrenheit conversion to understand what precisely that represents and whether to take additional precautions for the sensitive, high-ranking star-creator. However, for the retired angel-demon, the lesson was straightforward since it's one of his favored subjects in the branches of science.
The scientist-in-disguise fancies converting the temperature by-hand, and the °F = °C×(9/5)+32 formula is broadly documented on the top line of his whiteboard in his room with today's temperature written underneath in Fahrenheit with a smiley face and check mark.
As it comes to be, Nina has neglected to inform the masses that the H-E-B she proudly emits isn't just a few miles from Crowley and Muriel's residence in North Dallas but fifty miles away. Apple Maps offers three routes, including Texas's tolls and whatnot, but they all equal just about the same amount of miles and an hour and a half of road time. From the passenger seat, Muriel is comfortably tapping through their phone, and Crowley grins to himself in self-deprecation; he's delighted that Muriel has adjusted to Human technology and can do what they want and not have to manage his serpent disabilities.
They're smiling at their phone as they type, and nosily, Crowley questions with a smirk, "You've gotten yourself a friend, One?"
"Yes, I have," they confidently respond, their attention undeterred from their phone. "She's from a place named Colorado."
Crowley dips his head and conveys with emphasis, "She?"
"Yes. Her name is Cassandra. How lovely," they react with a passionate smile, their cheeks overlayed in benevolent reds and pinks, signaling that they're blushing. Then, they pause and sound, "You may know her parents; they're in the United States of America Air Force."
The redhead considers it, then sucks his teeth with a shake of his head and declines with a sigh, "Eh, maybe. I've met many people for reasons here, there, and such."
Before Muriel can react, there's a knock on the divider, so they press a button in the middle console to open it. The heads of Nina and Pepper poke in, their gazes first roaming out the windshield and through the fifty-percent tinted door windows, then on the owners of their newly-found residency. As far as Crowley knows, neither dark-skinned women — nor the others — have visited outside London and other countries, so this is a new adventure for them. He supposes they'll have more opportunities for sightseeing, seeing as they've bombarded him and Muriel. There's still an unspecified explanation regarding the four teenagers' absence from their parents.
How, out of all of Earth, were Crowley and Muriel discovered? Alas, it wasn't like they were necessarily hiding because it all would be gratuitous with Heaven's state-of-the-art location tracker (and Hell's own thing, too). Still, the elevators to Upstairs and Downstairs are only found in critical areas and would deposit whomever in the outskirts of their pulpit and not at a precise point. Plus, none of the guests are connected to Heaven or Hell. Well, hold on: That's not entirely accurate: In a different universe, Maggie and Nina as Sisters Mary Loquacious and Theresa Garrulous were linked to Hell and the fiasco with Warlock and Adam, the Antichrist, who has his drafted passe of companions who temporarily conquered the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. There's the aura-seeking Anathema, the descendant of the witch Agnes Nutter.
In a way, they're associated with the two entities, though it's apparent that it's more on Hell's side. Then, there's Warlock and the anonymous third child, both collateral damage in the tumble.
Whatever Heaven's Aziraphale and Hell's Shax are stirring, it's impressive, Crowley will give them that. They've postponed their stunt until now.
"Hey, it feels like we've been riding for hours!" exclaims Nina in a huff. She pushes a loose braid strand out of her eyes.
"Oh, quit your whining. You're the one that wants to go to H-E-B over all the other supermarkets the state has to offer. Plus, it's in Burleson, which is a few miles outside of Fort Worth, not Dallas," responds Crowley with a roll of his eyes. Occasionally, like now, he puts on a front of placing his hands on the stirring wheel to portray that he's driving, but it's anything but. Almost on its last whelm, the miracle remains, and he hopes it holds on just long enough for the adventure with his guests and back to his bedroom.
Muriel leans forward, presses the Apple Maps button on the Bentlousine's digital touchscreen on the dash, and informs, "Right now, we're in Arlington. The map estimates that we're thirty minutes out."
"Can't your car poof us there, Mr. Crowley?" asks Pepper.
"Well, it's not ordinary magic or anything, but yeah, she can poof," praisingly responds the redhead with a nod. He twists and glances at the younger woman, taking the opportunity to note her distinctive color scheme, then continues, "That would be quite suspicious, wouldn't you think — a vehicle randomly appearing and out exits ten people who aren't from here?"
Muriel doesn't comprehend Crowley's reasoning, so they state, "We're from here, Crowley; we're American citizens."
The man delivers a closed-mouth smile their way and reacts, "Yeah, we are, but they're not."
"Oh, uh, we actually are," corrects Anathema from the background. The divider isn't large, so Nina and Maggie slide to the side.
Crowley produces a facial expression that conveys his disbelief. "What? Literally, how did that come about?"
The woman lowers her head with a frown. "Well, that I don't know. However, one day, I saw the paperwork in the mail, and boom, I now have dual citizenship."
The redhead frowns, too. "That's not how it works; there's a process to being a dual citizen. I—" he pauses and regards Muriel, his hand motioning between the duo, then continues incredulously, "—we know all about the time-consuming operation. Granted, a few strings were pulled, but that's beyond the point."
"My dad didn't know how it came to be either, but he considered it a gift or something for me to be able to be in America and London," voices Warlock from the background.
"So, let me get this straight: None of you applied for dual citizenship in America yet, yet, somehow, there was paperwork in the mail that stated otherwise? Surely I'm not the only one who believes that there's a security problem at play here?" comments Crowley in mistrust. He releases a heavy breath and gazes out the window at nothing.
"I don't think it's a bad thing, nanny," softly says Brian, and the older man almost didn't hear it without gratitude for his sensory-vibration keenness.
The retired angel-demon lazily rests his head on the headrest and declares, "It's not, but it's not right, either."
Silently, Adam reaches through the divider to rest his hand on Crowley's shoulder, and the black-wearing man wants to cave into himself.
After what feels like an eternity (to the others, because Crowley knows what that feels like, and it's not this), the clan arrives at H-E-B. Unsurprisingly, it's packed with cars, trucks, and customers walking to and fro. The Bentlousine has no choice but to park some way away from one of the entrances, and it causes Crowley to groan inwardly. The miracle is definitely on its last whelm now, and he isn't sure if he'll make it before his body betrays him.
He presses the button to open the divider and announces with as much stability as possible, "Alright, you lot. We're here."
"Whew, finally. Let's go buy the store!" excitedly exclaims Brian as he and the others exit the car.
Muriel exists on their side and automatically goes wandering for something. Crowley sighs, unfastens his seatbelt, then moves to follow suit.
"Not so fast. Do you even have American money?" questions Warlock as he racks a head through his long strands.
"As a matter-of-fact, I do; we do. It came in the mail with the citizenship papers. We weren't going to run through our nanny if that's what you were thinking," boldly responds Pepper with a scoff.
"Well, I don't know you like that, so I was just making sure. Your enthusiasm was much too high," defends Warlock as he eyes Brian.
Brian rolls his eyes and says, "Oh, can it with the pessimism, why don't you?"
Warlock steps to Brian and reacts, "Or what?"
Crowley is leaning against the Bentley-but-now-actually-Bentlousine, not believing his ears (which he can't, to begin with, but that's not the point). He expresses, "C'mon, guys. Really? You've had an hour and a half to separate your differences, yet you've decided to do it in H-E-B's parking lot. Let's calm down and purchase whatever there is to offer."
"I say we let them fight it out," suggests Nina with a shrug. Maggie whispers something into her ear, but the parking lot is too noisy for it to be heard.
The redhead adjusts his glasses and says, "Don't encourage them. At least not here, of all places."
Muriel reappears with a motorized shopping cart, and Crowley will forever appreciate them.
The man sits in the seat and gently voices to them, "Thank you, One." Next, he turns and regards the eight guests awkwardly standing. The spirit and gameness from a few moments ago clearly vanished, but that's neither here nor there. "Well, c'mon, now. We've got shopping to do."