Anthony J. Crowley: Hell's Most Approachable Demon (evil_ish) wrote in almost_paradise, @ 2013-02-17 20:27:00 |
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Entry tags: | aziraphale - good omens, crowley - good omens |
A Demon Displaced [tag: Aziraphale]
What in Hell?
He wasn't quite sure how long he'd been sleeping at this point, it tended to vary, but the ceiling his eyes saw as they opened was not the ceiling in his London flat. Crowley didn't recall having gone anywhere else. Sitting up, the next thing he realized was that the bed was not his own. Looking around, the set of his jaw changed from that of groggy confusion to that of a very irritated confusion. Was this... Was this a hotel room? When did he get here? Howdid he get here, for that matter? Why was he here?
Did he end up intoxicated and forgot to sober himself up before deciding to crash somewhere? Seemed highly unlikely. Crowley stood and started to head to the window to get a better grasp on where exactly he was so that he could piece together what had happened when he paused in front of the mirror. Something was off. He was... how the Hell was he wearing black satin pajamas?
And more importantly, how did his true name -the wiggly sigil that he didn't really use unless he had to sign something for Hell all official-like, end up embroidered on the pocket?
Was this some elaborate joke? Crowley was certainly not amused.
The window, once he pulled the curtain back and his eyes adjusted to the sudden extreme bright of the outdoors, wasn't much help. Somewhere tropical, it seemed. Well, that was not helpful. There were infinite tropical places in the world, though how he got here from London was growing more puzzling by the moment.
He didn't look about the room for any literature to clue him in on his situation, the next thing the demon did instead was throw the door to the room open, flip the security lock in place so the door didn't slam shut behind him and lock him out, and stepped out into the hall.