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“The end is nigh!” the street preacher bellowed, waving a prominent handmade sign which bore the same proclamation in giant letters. Noticing a pair of passersby stopped on the pavement to glance at him, he seized the opportunity to yell directly at them. “Repent now while ye still may!”
“Interesting suggestion.” Crowley exchanged looks with his companion, and nodded politely to the fellow with the sign. “I’ll pass, thanks.”
“Um.” Seeming unsure what to make of that response, the preacher repeated his thesis. “Repent, I say, ye sinners! Repent now, for the fires of Hell await ye—”
“Oh, do you really think they’re still waiting for us?” Aziraphale inquired. “What a pity. I assumed they’d given up some time ago.”
The preacher blinked, then tried again. He took a more positive approach this time. “Repent and be saved and ye will be permitted to enter the Kingdom of Heaven—”
“I said no, thank you.” Crowley took Aziraphale’s hand protectively. “Neither of us is going anywhere near that kingdom.”
“The end is nigh!” Credit where credit was due, the preacher was nothing if not persistent. “The seas will boil, the world will burn, the apocalypse will come—”
“Been there, done that, got the t-shirt.” Crowley tugged at Aziraphale’s hand. “Come on, angel. There’s nothing helpful for us here. He’s way behind on the news.”
“Quite so,” Aziraphale agreed. “Though I suppose it’s not entirely his fault if he’s confused; the Celestial Observer did do a terrible job reporting on what happened, you know.”
“You think he reads the Celestial Observer?”
“One never knows.”
“...I guess that’s true.”
They strolled on, hand in hand, leaving the preacher shouting in vain behind them.
“Wait a moment,” Aziraphale said suddenly, stopping so quickly Crowley almost tripped. “Did you say you got an Armageddon t-shirt?”