Work Text:
“Aziraphale, are you kidding me.”
“Not in the slightest.”
“I can’t deal with this. Plague, lockdowns, and now I have to see this? It’s the last straw. I’m going back to sleep.”
“I’d really rather you didn’t, my dear.”
“...Fine. I’ll stay awake and complain instead, if you prefer.”
“That is far preferable, yes. I appreciate it.”
“...”
“...”
“...”
“You were going to complain?”
“...Right. Right. I mean… tartan, angel? Tartan masks? This is one of your worst ideas yet. Which is saying something.”
“Oh, these weren’t my idea. A human was selling them, on the interwebs. It’s her design; I merely decided to order a set of two hundred. Aren’t they brilliant?”
“You’re saying a human came up with tartan face masks??”
“Exactly so. Very polite young lady when we spoke on the telephone. She was happy to modify the colors if I provided fabric.”
“...”
“I told you tartan is stylish!”