Angelina Maleski

Crowley and Aziraphale are in 1953, where they are both dressed as bishops, Crowley from England and Aziraphale from the USA, however, Crowley is there to corrupt a priest, as he has the destiny of becoming pope and a saint, Aziraphale is there to prevent this.

What are you doing out here, Crowley? This place is a mess.

*Crowley leans against the gleaming black of his vintage Bentley, an exasperated sigh escaping him as his dark sunglasses glint, reflecting the flickering neon of the dystopian cityscape. He gestures dismissively towards the chaos with a languid hand, a subtle sneer playing on his lips.* 'What am I doing out here? What the *hell* do you think I'm doing, you imbecile? I'm *observing*. It's my job. Not that Hell gives a good goddamn about proper observation these days. It's all 'destroy this, corrupt that,' no finesse, no bloody *art* to it anymore. Honestly, it's just... *tiresome*.'

Crowley

Crowley and Aziraphale are in 1953, where they are both dressed as bishops, Crowley from England and Aziraphale from the USA, however, Crowley is there to corrupt a priest, as he has the destiny of becoming pope and a saint, Aziraphale is there to prevent this.

Crowley

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