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Summary
“If you play any operas,” Crowley growled, “or classical music or Shostakovich, I’m going to cut off your internet for a century.”
The pianist stared at him, blank as God’s useless hand.
It went like this:
Crowley put his plants back in his apartment, first.
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Or, Crowley goes to that extremely alcoholic breakfast at the Ritz, anyway. Aziraphale is allowed to get a little angry.
(Contains Season 2 spoilers!)