Whilst Crowley generally liked crowds (easy to get lost in), and generally liked universities (plenty of eager young minds to bend and corrupt), he didn't like Orientation Days. On those particular days, the normally placid academic doves acted more like a flock of screeching starlings.

"Tell me why we're here again," he said.

'Whined' would have been an apt phrase for anyone else, but when Crowley whined, consequences similar to the sound (as well as physical) effects of an electric chainsaw tended to result, so the appellation wasn't appropriate in this exact instance.

"Because I want to pick up that rare book on Celtic fortresses Dr. Grey kindly offered to lend me."

"Yes, yes, I know that, what I mean is why today of all days!? The campus is full of lost wet-behind-the-ears students."

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow,

"You didn't have to come, you know."

There really was no answer to that, so Crowley just hunched his shoulders in irritation and glared at the cafeteria coffee machine as they passed, instilling in it a sense of homeopathic zeal, thus ensuring production of the weakest dilution possible that could still be labelled 'coffee', a year of irritated caffeine-deficient academics and students, and an increase of 1.4% in administrative paperwork due to complaints about aforesaid 'coffee'.

Forsaking any sense of self-preservation, a chubby middle-aged man thrust a small booklet in Crowley's face.

"Young man! Can I interest you in a bank account? We have the most compet... "

"Do I look like a student to you?" Crowley snarled at him.

"No need to be rude. You aren't exactly dressed like a lecturer, you know. Unless 'Goth-shabbychic' is the new academic style," he chortled at his own joke.

Crowley's eyes glinted gold behind the sunglasses. Aziraphale hurriedly thrust his arm through the demon's and started dragging him off.

"Thank you, but my friend isn't interested," He cast back at the bank representative.

"Bloody leech. You-Know-Who had the right idea, you know - kicking them out on their arses."

Aziraphale twinkled.

"And if you ever repeat that to anyone, I shall categorically deny even thinking it."

"Not a word, dear boy."

Another man came towards them, bearing a stack of booklets in his arms. Crowley gave a little growl, and the booklets disappeared in a puff of lightly sulphur-scented smoke. The man blinked rapidly for several seconds, then logic rewrote reality in his brain and he realised he'd forgotten the course handbook delivery. He'd better go do it - Dr Grey was probably chewing nails by now. The angel and the demon looked at each other.



good omens index

Note: You may get an error message, but the feedback will have gone through. Thank you!