rockandrollvampire | A vampire walks into an angel's bookshop...

It's a blustery December afternoon in London. Nothing special about it as people bustle around in their coats from one place to another, fretting about gifts for loved ones as the sun goes down and Christmas ekes closer. The temperature is barely above freezing and the sky is clouded over with that usual gray haze, but it's hardly noticeable against the backdrop of twinkle lights, decorated evergreens, and green garlands strung up around every corner.

Toby's in a better mood than usual today. With the sun setting so early, he's able to get out of his apartment at a reasonable hour and finally check in on a shop he heard about a few weeks ago. 'Oldest books I've ever seen,' a fellow patron had told him. 'More first editions than I thought possible!'

What a perfect place to pick up a few new volumes he's been hoping to add to his collection ...and replace a few that were left in the care of his now former lover.

As he steps up to the storefront, the vampire takes the cigarette he'd been puffing from his lips and snubs it out on the curb. He's not dressed terribly well for the weather by human standards, but what's cold to a vampire? With a little charm and a dazzling smile, he's sure he can distract the proprietor of... A.Z. Fell's Bookshop. That's a hell of a name. At least Toby knows the owner's name now?

Adjusting his collar a bit, he steps inside and starts looking around. His eyes are immediately drawn to how old the volumes on the shelves are and a small grin tugs at his lips. Yeah, this is exactly where he needed to be today.

[OOC Note: This is set in December 2018]

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He smiles benevolently. "Of course." A pause, then he suggests, "Some take-away, too, if you're interested? How, ah... how often do you need to drink blood? Does eating food interfere with that at all?" He doesn't want to disrupt Toby's metabolism, whatever that entails.

Toby's words draw out a chuckle from him that is far more wry than his usual laughter. "Yes, you could say that." They have an Apocalypse to avert, and the clock is ticking down quickly. Although it does at least help Aziraphale to concentrate on the task at hand and not let his mind wander too much in Crowley's presence.

The angel is a fount of optimism. This is the same person who told Hamlet to buck up with a bright smile. And so he does now, any implication of flirting sailing right above that fluffy blond head of his. "If the door's closed, just knock. My hours tend to vary." He has a whole paragraph about it hanging on his door, and even then, he doesn't always follow his set hours. Toby lucked out on coming here when it was open the first time.

With anyone other than an angel, this would be an uncomfortable conversation topic for Toby. As Aziraphale is genuinely curious and trying to be careful of his needs, this isn't all that bad. "Take away would be great. Can we do Italian, like you mentioned before? I don't actually need to eat human food, but I enjoy the hell out of it." He takes a sip of his wine before adding, "I only need blood once a week or so to survive. Having it more often doesn't change much and anything else I have in between meals, like Italian food or good wine, doesn't affect my body in the same way. I can, however, get fantastically drunk if I want to." Which is great up until the hangover. That part isn't quite so fun.

The vampire looks over at Aziraphale with a cocked eyebrow. "What happens if I stop by and you're not in? Have you got a spare key I can borrow? A number I can call you at?" All very important things for Toby to know when he wants this to be a semi-regular thing. There are so many books to read and hand-written notes therein to find. He could spend weeks looking through just a few sections and still be certain he hasn't seen them all, and that means he needs to be allowed in as often as possible.

He listens to Toby's explanation raptly, committing to memory the needs of his new friend. He doesn't dwell on the darker implications of a being that needs to drink blood to survive. It's like asking a mermaid or a centaur what special dietary restrictions they have, no real judgement on his part.

"Yes, of course. How much are you able to eat? I usually get some garlic bread and an order of chicken piccata. The noodles are handmade and are simply divine."

It's when Toby asks about a spare key that he's forced to take those implications into account. Not that he doesn't want Toby to visit when he can, but he hates to think what might happen if Gabriel or another angel decides to stop by. It's enough of a risk to have Crowley hanging around, but Crowley knows when to be scarce. He'd hate for something to happen to Toby because he showed up at the wrong time.

"I can give you the store's number. One moment." He sets aside his wine and gets up, heading to his desk. Within a few seconds, he has a number written on a scrap of paper that he passes along to Toby.

"If I'm not in..." He trails off as he sits down, his shoulders heavy, as if something is pressing down on him. "If I'm not in, it's not a good idea to be here. I'll be away on angel business. In fact, if there's ever a moment that I tell you that you need to leave, I hope you'll trust me and not stick around. Gabriel sometimes pops by unannounced." Gabriel would smite a vampire on sight, he's sure of it. Or tell Aziraphale that he has to do it. The thought makes him sick, and that unease shows up on his face. Please trust him on this, Toby.

"As much as a man who looks my age can," he laughs. "Grab some extra garlic bread and the house recommended specialty for me? I'd be content with most anything, provided there's still some wine left by the time we get it." Red wine goes so much better with Italian food than scotch. He, uh, might know from experience.

His brow furrows as he takes the paper from Aziraphale. He hadn't expected it would be a problem for him to come and go as he pleases, but he also hadn't considered what other angels might think of him. He's not a demon, exactly, but he is a soulless undead monster. That would be more than enough to set a few folks of a holier type off, which it appears his angel friend is seriously worried about given the look on his face.

There's a moment of shock that hangs in the air as that last bit sets in, though. "The Gabriel? Archangel and warrior of God? You know him?" A beat. "How many angels are there up there?" He's not sure he actually wants to know the answer to that, but the surprise is overriding the 'don't actually want to know' response at the moment.

Aziraphale's smile is strained. "He's my boss, Toby. Gabriel, Michael, and Uriel. Archangels. They're in charge of running the Great Plan."

The question of how many angels takes a long moment to answer, one he buffers with a sip of wine. "The Heavenly Host is vast. There used to be more of us, but there was a war, and some of them Fell and became demons. Most angels don't walk upon the Earth like I do. They pop down for a miracle or two -- make a grand spectacle of it to leave people talking. Burning bushes, dreams of ladders, that sort of thing. Then it's back up to Heaven."

Or at least the part of Heaven where angels tread on hoverboards. He takes another sip of wine, clearly uncomfortable, but in a distinctly different way from talk of his "friend" or his relationship with Oscar.

He sets down his glass and puts on a smile of forced cheer. "Anyway, takeaway. I'll go order that now. And don't worry about the wine, I can always open another bottle."

Wow. That's a lot more about angels and archangels than Toby ever would've guessed. There's also hints at other things that he's really not ready to ask about or get clarification on, so he's glad when Aziraphale shifts gears. Now he can skip having to tell the angel not to bother and stunt the conversation with the sudden change of pace.

"Got a few bottle stashed away?" he jokes with a laugh. "In that case, we should open a second once you've ordered so it can breathe properly before our food arrives." He grins and takes a sip of his wine before nodding at Aziraphale. "Off you go. I'll wait here with Wordsworth. William always could keep me good company when I needed to give someone a minute." He takes the book from his lap and wiggles it in the angel's direction. It's obvious he needs a moment to collect himself, so Toby wants to let him have it. They've got all night to talk; A short break isn't going to change the pace of anything.

It is very kind of Toby to let the subject drop, even if it's out of a self-preservation for the vampire's own sanity. By the time he's on his feet, his smile has turned genuine. "My dear, I have all the bottles." A bit of an exaggeration, but there's no need to worry about them running out of alcohol any time soon. "I'll open another one to breathe after I call out for our food."

He acknowledges the book with a nod of his head. Funny how that's what brought Toby here in the first place. He's glad he didn't manage to successfully shoo him out. He heads off to the phone on the store's counter, and soon enough, with good food and more drink, they spend the rest of the night talking as only two people who have walked the Earth as long as they have can.

A vampire walks into an angel's bookshop...

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