He immediately feels guilty for saying it, which is followed up by guilt that he's so close to Aziraphale when he's clearly not wanted. He winces, knowing that so much is written on his face and hating the lack of glasses, wanting to cut himself off.
The decision earns a sharp little nod, he gets up and backs off, circling around the bed to the wardrobe. It opens easily, and Crowley finds it filled with clothes. Feminine on one side, masculine on the other, obviously meant to belong to a man and woman.]
Clothing's all retro. [It's an odd twist, something to focus on other than the strange, yawning emptiness where his sense of the supernatural should be.] Look at this.
[He pulls out a dress, red with a flared skirt, covered in polka dots.]
Like something out of the fifties. S'even got a petticoat.
no subject
[Definitely not reassuring.
He immediately feels guilty for saying it, which is followed up by guilt that he's so close to Aziraphale when he's clearly not wanted. He winces, knowing that so much is written on his face and hating the lack of glasses, wanting to cut himself off.
The decision earns a sharp little nod, he gets up and backs off, circling around the bed to the wardrobe. It opens easily, and Crowley finds it filled with clothes. Feminine on one side, masculine on the other, obviously meant to belong to a man and woman.]
Clothing's all retro. [It's an odd twist, something to focus on other than the strange, yawning emptiness where his sense of the supernatural should be.] Look at this.
[He pulls out a dress, red with a flared skirt, covered in polka dots.]
Like something out of the fifties. S'even got a petticoat.
[No one wears petticoats these days.]