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Summary
Crowley’s saunter seemed off. Aziraphale had no other way to put it. Over 6,000 years he was used to the demon’s swaggering step, but the steps seemed more uneven than usual. There were several times he had to casually step aside to make more room so they didn’t run into each other.
And his walk was slower than usual, too. Usually the energetic demon walked a few steps ahead and it was all he could do to keep up. Aziraphale slowed down too, choosing to comment on the new restaurants nearby he wanted to try, taking a moment to pause and point those out so Crowley could keep pace without calling attention to it.
By the time they reached the park, Aziraphale found he couldn’t hold it in any longer.
“Are you sure you’re quite alright, dearest?”