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“What is it,” Aziraphale asks irritably, “with humans and masks?”
He feels Crowley peering over his shoulder to read the assignment that just arrived. It’s a typically dull, textbook case of divine inspiration… but the target of Aziraphale’s current interest and exasperation is the designated location.
A masquerade ball.
“Masks are fun,” the demon says, in answer to Aziraphale’s question. “You should see some of the designs people come up with.”
“Clever costumes are all very well. But why masks?”
“Why not?”
“They’re terribly inconvenient! You can’t see anyone’s face. You can hardly tell who anyone is at these sorts of affairs.”
“That’s… sort of the point.”
“A foolish point, if you ask me.”
Crowley sighs, reaching up to finger his sunglasses. “Don’t you ever wish you could have the chance to be… to pretend to be… someone different?”
“I never…” Aziraphale begins, and then stops, feeling his eyes widening.
The demon comes around to face him and leans forward, attitude intensifying. “You really never wish you could hide who you are?”
“I—“
“To take a break from your own reputation? To do what you like, and no one the wiser? To talk to people, just for once, without the boundaries of identity forever holding you apart? Never, angel?” Crowley demands. “Really?”
Aziraphale swallows.
“To shed your face and your name, just for one night — to be yourself by concealing yourself, knowing everything will be back to normal tomorrow?”
There’s a long, pensive minute of silence.
“I suppose,” Aziraphale says at last, in subdued tones, “I can see why… why humans might like that. Sometimes.”
Crowley nods.
And then, to Aziraphale’s amazement, the demon leans in as if on a sudden impulse, lips so close to his ear that the breath of his words tickles.
“Listen,” he murmurs, voice barely audible, “I’ll be there, at the ball, when you’re done with the inspiration. Mask and all. You’ll recognize me — if you decide you want to, that is. But you’ll be the only one.”
“Oh,” Aziraphale manages.
“And no matter who you dance with… no matter what we do… no one will ever know who was behind the masks.”
Oh.
I’ll be there too, Aziraphale thinks, and holds back his smile. They’re not wearing masks yet, after all.
But perhaps he was a bit too quick to judge the humans for their odd ideas. They may just be on to something.