Aziraphale is taking a hardline stance against the theft of souls on this particular evening. Which is an understatement, of course, because he tends to have a hardline stance against the theft of souls in any context, but still.
The sight is a special sort of horrifying. Having been, in theory, created to be a Guardian of some sort from the beginning, Aziraphale can't help a burst of impulsive protectiveness that he never got all that good at tempering. He absolutely, under any circumstances, cannot stand by and allow this to happen.
He'd handed off his improvised weapon earlier, so as needs must, he opts for a new one.
Neat thing about hurling a bucketful of blessed water onto a Nightrender: they scream and they hate it. The Nightrender drops Ronan and stumbles back. Whether it's for a good measure of time or only for a minute remains to be seen, but with any luck, it's enough.
Aziraphale scrambles for the young man on the ground, settling on his knees with no space for frivolous thoughts about the state of his clothing--
"Oh, don't look so disappointed," he's saying. There's fondness to his tone, the sort that turns into a smile, but his eyes are overly bright. It's as close to crying as he's maybe ever been. He lets his gaze dart around in the car a little bit, can't bring it to settle on Crowley in his ridiculous beatnik getup for more than a moment. "Perhaps one day we could... I don't know. Go for a picnic. Dine at the Ritz."
Aziraphale can't shake off the unbearable thought of losing him, can't shake off the thought that he might play a hand in it.
Crowley takes a breath to say something, and Aziraphale loves him, and he's never felt more wretched in his existence--
He's too focused on desperately trailing the progress of this young man's soul to let the memory do more than pull a short breath from him. Bigger fish to fry, as it were.
"That's right. Back where you belong, easy as anything, you can do it-"
He is really not emotionally prepared to handle watching a human(? awfully shifty for a human, but it's not as though he's seen a soul in this particular context before, either) soul dissipate like mist. So he's going all in on choosing to believe that it a) will be going back where it needs to be and b) could use some encouragement, in lieu of having any of his normal miraculous capacity to help it along.
a4; slides in here
The sight is a special sort of horrifying. Having been, in theory, created to be a Guardian of some sort from the beginning, Aziraphale can't help a burst of impulsive protectiveness that he never got all that good at tempering. He absolutely, under any circumstances, cannot stand by and allow this to happen.
He'd handed off his improvised weapon earlier, so as needs must, he opts for a new one.
Neat thing about hurling a bucketful of blessed water onto a Nightrender: they scream and they hate it. The Nightrender drops Ronan and stumbles back. Whether it's for a good measure of time or only for a minute remains to be seen, but with any luck, it's enough.
Aziraphale scrambles for the young man on the ground, settling on his knees with no space for frivolous thoughts about the state of his clothing--
"Oh, don't look so disappointed," he's saying. There's fondness to his tone, the sort that turns into a smile, but his eyes are overly bright. It's as close to crying as he's maybe ever been. He lets his gaze dart around in the car a little bit, can't bring it to settle on Crowley in his ridiculous beatnik getup for more than a moment. "Perhaps one day we could... I don't know. Go for a picnic. Dine at the Ritz."
Aziraphale can't shake off the unbearable thought of losing him, can't shake off the thought that he might play a hand in it.
Crowley takes a breath to say something, and Aziraphale loves him, and he's never felt more wretched in his existence--
He's too focused on desperately trailing the progress of this young man's soul to let the memory do more than pull a short breath from him. Bigger fish to fry, as it were.
"That's right. Back where you belong, easy as anything, you can do it-"
He is really not emotionally prepared to handle watching a human(? awfully shifty for a human, but it's not as though he's seen a soul in this particular context before, either) soul dissipate like mist. So he's going all in on choosing to believe that it a) will be going back where it needs to be and b) could use some encouragement, in lieu of having any of his normal miraculous capacity to help it along.