[If Crowley remembered going to bed, he would be highly confused as to why there is an enormous fluffy white cat curled up next to him instead of a pudgy angel. As it is, Crowley doesn't remember being Crowley. He does, however, remember being Laluziel.

Laluziel likes cats. He scritches this one behind the ears.]

Hullo.

[Crowley unlocks the door to his room and slowly opens it.]

Aziraphale? Are you in here?

[He can smell something baking. It smells delicious and apple-y, and he wholeheartedly approves and feels much guiltier about not telling the angel that he was popping up to the top deck.]

I brought someone who wants to meet you.

Zexion, we need to talk.

Room 016, five o'clock. Coffee if you insist. Don't be late because you will regret it.

Does anyone know if Karsaburo does favors?

Aziraphale—

[He coughs.]

Aziraphale, look, where— Is this thing on? Oh, goddammit, it is, isn't—

Angel, where the fuck are you and who the hell do you look like?

This is definitely not my Mayfair apartment, unless it has a porthole that I don't remember. As much as I enjoy travelling, doing it while not conscious is less than desirable. I do hope I remembered to put the Bentley in storage before dozing off. If it was towing and compacted, I may have to bring down Google's servers for a couple hours. That will be good for a laugh.

So much for sleeping through the rest of the twenty-first century.

Where am I, and why does it appear to be floating? I got thrown out of Heaven ages ago. If this is their idea of an apology or reconciliation, I'm going to be really not pleased.

And bored.