[ A snap of his fingers and a scarf - practically a shawl - appears, wrapped loosely around Aziraphale's neck and shoulders. It's one of the few real garments Crowley owns, and it's one of his favourites. It's black as night, with flecks of red, and the softest pashmina. It's light, sheer and yet warm.
Crowley adjusts it, so that it drapes elegantly over Aziraphale's shoulders. ]
I think this is the first time we've miracled clothes on one another. Mind you, I'm not complaining.
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[ A snap of his fingers and a scarf - practically a shawl - appears, wrapped loosely around Aziraphale's neck and shoulders. It's one of the few real garments Crowley owns, and it's one of his favourites. It's black as night, with flecks of red, and the softest pashmina. It's light, sheer and yet warm.
Crowley adjusts it, so that it drapes elegantly over Aziraphale's shoulders. ]
I think this is the first time we've miracled clothes on one another. Mind you, I'm not complaining.