He hadn’t started off very fond of conventions (it certainly didn’t help matters that, every half hour or so, someone mistook him for a character from one of the Matrix movies). But they had managed to grow on him.
“I’m telling you, angel, these places are great. I’m considering sending a report Downstairs about it.” He was still rather disappointed that he hadn’t been the one to come up with the idea in the first place.
“Oh?” his companion seemed to mouth over the over the chatter of the busy convention hall.
“Look around you. People practically worship this stuff. Hell, a few people might actually sell their souls for a signed first edition collectable. On top of which…” Crowley dramatically pulled his sunglasses off, to Aziraphale’s momentary alarm.
“Hey, awesome contacts!” came a reaction from a passer-by less than half a minute later. Crowley smiled and kept walking.
“I swear to Manchester, Beelzebub himself could wander around this place and people would barely give it a second thought. Even your wardrobe doesn’t look out of place here,” he added with a smirk.
“Oh, don’t you start,” the angel said, rolling his eyes with the air of someone who had had the same argument far too many times. “There’s nothing wrong with my fashion sense.” Other than the decade, though the demon, but didn’t push the subject further. He’d realised some time ago that it was a lost cause.
“And anyway… I’m sure this is all lovely for you, my dear, but some of us don’t have a taste for these sorts of things,” Aziraphale struggled to make himself heard as a group of particularly noisy convention attendees wandered past.
“Oh, don’t be such a spoil-sport, there’s plenty of things here for you too. You’ve got art (he waved towards the comic village), you’ve got books… you’ve even got a few selfless acts if that’s what you fancy,” he added as they walked past a group of costumed people collecting money for charity.
“Not really my sort of art, I’m afraid. Or, em… books,” he blushed as they walked past a yaoi stand. “And it’s far too loud.”
“Suit yourself. Tell you what, there’s a nice little restaurant around the corner. Go get us a table and I’ll see you there in a few minutes.”
He pointed Aziraphale towards the exit, and casually pretended to examine a comic book stand until the he was out of sight. Still looking over his shoulder, he cautiously slinked away towards the arcade section.
Dance Dance Revolution was one joy of conventions that Crowley was not keen on sharing with the angel (or anyone else) just yet.