For JoAnn--Good Omens

"Do you miss it?" Crowly asked over tea one day. "Flying, I mean."

"Hmm?" Aziraphale stopped rearranging his books and looked up. "What was that?" He banished a jam stain Crowly had been steadily creating on a first edition Locke with a wave of his hand.

"Do you miss the flying?"

Aziraphale sat back and shook his head. "Oh, no. Well, not terribly anyway. The last time I took a short flight, I was nearly sucked into a jet engine."

"You too, then?" Crowly sighed and scowled into his tea. "Bloody aeroplanes."

"Indeed." Aziraphale went back to his books. "Well. I find that it's no great loss. I always was allergic to down."