For @go-events OTP Prompts/Mystery Au event, @skimmingmilk and I’ve teamed up shocking, I know to bring you a 1940s mystery! Coming soon...
Crowley looked over his shoulder, intrigued by such obvious displeasure at the idea of selling his books. He clearly had a fondness for the things, so there was some connection. He just couldn't decide what that was. This Aziraphale Fell was either an excellent actor or someone who shouldn't even bother having opening hours. “Not to buy, but now I'm curious about the errors.” Crowley wondered, making a turn in careful exploration of the space. He wanted to find that backroom, though the plush couch he nearly stumbled over neatly distracted from that idea. It was like stepping into someone's private living room, though the shelves still surrounded the space and he could see a desk crammed with even more books and some tools he couldn't immediately identify. Most interesting, though, was the mug with lipstick printed on the rim.
Perhaps there wasn't a backroom, per se. Business could likely be easily conducted right there in a space where customers were treated like pariahs. Something about the theory didn't quite sit right with him, though. There was clearly something happening, but what? “Guess she didn't get the same brush off you're trying with me.”
Aziraphale watched him in the same way one might watch a rat that promised not to take a single bite of food from the cupboard, and with the same amount of trust. “Who?” he asked after a moment, sounding legitimately confused.
“The lipstick-wearer you were having tea with.” Crowley’s grin returned. He didn't mind being a suspect. Things were often more fun that way. “Could be a he, I s'pose.”
“What are you talking about? I haven’t had tea yet. That’s why I have to close the shop.” He gestured towards the door, looking no more enlightened by Crowley’s response, though the confused crease in his brow did deepen. “Are you referring to Ms. Montgomery?”
Every bit of suspicion evaporated. Well, not every bit. Crowley wasn't a complete idiot, as evidenced by his continued aliveness. But enough of it did that his eyelids granted Aziraphale a rare, unseen blink. He'd named her. Like it was nothing. Like he wasn't doing a thing wrong. No one was this decent an actor. “There's a cup on your table with lipstick marks on it.”
