Chapter Text
The request comes through the EDN rideshare app at one thirty in the morning. Anthony Crowley is working his usual overnight shift as a driver. Nothing is especially remarkable about the request. He’s taken people all over Washington, DC, at all times of night. This person wants to go to the library at Georgetown University. The library is open twenty four hours a day during the school year so even this destination is not unusual. Lots of students and faculty prefer the late and quiet hours to study.
The night air is thick with fog as Anthony closes in on the residential address where he’s meeting the pick-up. It’s a tony neighborhood in Georgetown lined with stately million-dollar townhomes. Must be faculty, Anthony thinks to himself, or else a student with very rich parents. When he pulls up to the address, there is a man waiting for him in the dark. He rolls down the passenger side window so the man can confirm the ride details.
“Anthony?”
“Yes, that’s me. Taking you to the Lauinger Library. I’m sorry, but I don’t quite know how to pronounce your name.”
He hears a scoff. “You have the right person.”
The man opens the rear door of Anthony’s black Prius and gets in and Anthony can see him properly for the first time. He’s probably in his fifties with a shock of white-blond curly hair and the appearance of someone who has lost a large amount of weight very quickly. His suit is ill-fitting, his cheeks are sunken, there are shadows under his eyes and his broad shoulders curl in on themselves. Though it’s baggy on him in places, the suit he’s wearing is high quality. Anthony has driven diplomats, lobbyists, CEOs, politicians. He recognizes bespoke when he sees it and the three pieces, pinstripes, charcoal gray wool, and bow tie all speak of money and taste. Strange that it doesn’t fit better.
The man clears his throat. “It’s Ah-zee-ruh-fail.”
“Aziraphale,” Anthony repeats. “Thank you, just didn’t want to butcher it on my first try.”
Aziraphale only grunts in response. Anthony gives him a polite smile in the rearview mirror and starts onto his route. The atmosphere inside the car is somehow as thick and nebulous as the air outside. It feels like Aziraphale wants to say something but he’s silent on the short ride to the university campus. After a few minutes, Anthony pulls up to the library, a hulking concrete structure that looks even more imposing for the glow of its lights in the dark night. Aziraphale says a polite goodbye and gets out into the pea-soup fog. A chill runs through Anthony as he watches Aziraphale disappear into the miasma.
“That was weird,” he says to himself. He is absentmindedly wrapping his long, auburn hair into a messy bun when another request comes through the app. Shrugging off the last encounter, Anthony accepts the next ride request and drives away.