Character: Aziraphale

- You crashed into someone.
- No. Someone crashed into me.

- Why do you absorb? You're an angel.
- It's sushi! They dip them in soy sauce. So do mortals. Since I'm forced to live among them, acting like everything. Tea?
I will not desecrate the temple of her heavenly body... local stuff.
Oh. Of course. Nice costume.
- Their clothes are to my liking.

Impressive equipment, I've seen this before. Very unusual. Shoots balls of paint.
- Your party does approve of guns?
Only in righteous hands. Then it lends weight to the spiritual arguments.

- What you did was just low - Aziraphale said, stepping through the empty corridor.
- What did I do? said Crowley, opening one door after another.
Where people shoot each other!
- Exactly, and so what? No one forced them. They themselves wanted. I just helped them. Think of it as a world in miniature. Free will for all. And complete the inconceivable, isn't it?
Aziraphale stared at him.
- Okay. Really don't want to kill - sadly admitted Crowley. All miraculously saved. Otherwise, what's the fun in that?
Aziraphale calmed down.
- You know, Crowley, "he began," I always said that actually, deep inside, you...
- Okay, okay! snapped Crowley. - Will you be giving now the whole of God's light?

Maybe you should start a terrorist?... suggested Aziraphale.
- Not one of us, said Crowley.
And not one of us, ' said Aziraphale. - Although ours, of course - the freedom fighters.

- So what do we do now?
- Try to get some sleep.
- You don't need sleep. And I don't need sleep. Evil never sleeps and Good vigilantly.

- Yes, that's better. Tchaikovsky. Aziraphale opened the case and inserted the tape into the VCR.
- And this too you will not like it, sighed Crowley. Cassette in the car for more than two weeks.
Heavy bass filled "Bentley", pronositsya by Heathrow. Aziraphale frowned.
- Somehow I do not remember, - he said. - What is it?
- Tchaikovsky. "Another One Bites the Dust," said Crowley, closing his eyes ("Bentley" I passed through Slough).
Whiling away the time on the road in the sleepy Chilterns hills, they listened to "We Are the Champions" by William Byrd and "I Want to Break Free" by Beethoven. But most of them are pleased "Fat-Bottomed Girls," Vaughan-Williams.
They say all the best tunes belong to the Devil. In General, the way it is. But in Heaven the best choreographers.

You see, evil always contains seeds of his defeat, ' said the angel. - Nature - denial, and therefore includes the destruction, even in moments of apparent victory. And no matter how his plan is ambitious, well-planned, protected from errors by definition are evil sinful fall to the attackers. And no matter how much they succeed in their deeds, because in the end they call death on their heads. And their imaginations broken on the rocks of unrighteousness, and they will be brought down into the abyss of oblivion, and disappear without a trace.
Crowley thought.
"No," he said at last. - I bet someone just made a mistake.

- Alo! (Dad, look, a Dog walking on its hind legs!) Alo! Who is it?
- Sorry, right number!

- I'd like to think that we could not have done anything if deep down you weren't a little bit good.
And if you hadn't been deep down, to a certain extent a bastard, which is worth knowing.

I think both sides will use this as a breather before the main battle.
I thought this was the main battle.
In my opinion, the main fight will start when all of our against all these.
What? Heaven and Hell against humanity...?

Well, nice to meet you. Can we meet in better times.
- Shut your stupid mouth and just die already.

Can stay at me if you want.
- I don't think mine will love it.
- You no longer have yours. We both have no. We ourselves own.

Imagine how awful things would have been if we did things right.