“And date – I was under the impression, old chap, that dating was a euphemism for courting. Which, you know, involves all sorts of hassle, dressing up, getting flowers, physical threats from the lady in question’s immediate male family – ”
“You’ve been out courting?” Crowley’s attention was suddenly piqued.
“A mere misunderstanding, I can assure you.” Aziraphale had gone awfully stiff. “I went to pay my respects to Mary Shelley – give her some tips, that sort of thing – and her father quite got the wrong idea. Battered me about the head with a very large Bible. Embossed and everything.”
“Wow.”
“Indeed.”
The angel and the demon sipped at their drinks in solemn silence.
“And anyway, anyway, a mandate is a whatchermacallit – court order. Very strict court order. This definitely isn’t one of those.”
“Yes, yes, yes yes, but the point is – ”
“Can’t see why we’d get a court order anyway, old chap.”
“You’re not listening – ”
“Flying over the speed limit? Excessive tempting of all mortal souls without a licence?”
“Aziraphale!”
The angel looked up. Crowley appeared to be sulking.
“Oh, alright, alright. So despite the fact that we’re not men, and this isn’t a date, and none of the known courts have charged us with a court order – ” he drew in breath, not that he needed to, “this is a man-date.”
“There. Was that so hard?”
Sigh. “Probably not.”
“There you go.” Crowley beamed, and waved a hand to refill the emptying bottle of scotch. “Now then – I-Pods?”
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
Re: Good Omens - Crowley and Aziraphale - Terminology Is Important Pt. II
Date: 2011-06-28 09:50 am (UTC)“And date – I was under the impression, old chap, that dating was a euphemism for courting. Which, you know, involves all sorts of hassle, dressing up, getting flowers, physical threats from the lady in question’s immediate male family – ”
“You’ve been out courting?” Crowley’s attention was suddenly piqued.
“A mere misunderstanding, I can assure you.” Aziraphale had gone awfully stiff. “I went to pay my respects to Mary Shelley – give her some tips, that sort of thing – and her father quite got the wrong idea. Battered me about the head with a very large Bible. Embossed and everything.”
“Wow.”
“Indeed.”
The angel and the demon sipped at their drinks in solemn silence.
“And anyway, anyway, a mandate is a whatchermacallit – court order. Very strict court order. This definitely isn’t one of those.”
“Yes, yes, yes yes, but the point is – ”
“Can’t see why we’d get a court order anyway, old chap.”
“You’re not listening – ”
“Flying over the speed limit? Excessive tempting of all mortal souls without a licence?”
“Aziraphale!”
The angel looked up. Crowley appeared to be sulking.
“Oh, alright, alright. So despite the fact that we’re not men, and this isn’t a date, and none of the known courts have charged us with a court order – ” he drew in breath, not that he needed to, “this is a man-date.”
“There. Was that so hard?”
Sigh. “Probably not.”
“There you go.” Crowley beamed, and waved a hand to refill the emptying bottle of scotch. “Now then – I-Pods?”
“Yours.”
“I-Pod Touches?”
“Ours.”
“Door-to-door salesman?”
“…Oh, definitely yours, old chap.”