[Aziraphale's exasperated sigh only gets a devilish grin from Crowley. Once the angel is comfortably seated, he shuts the passenger door and shortly joins him.

For a moment, his hands hover over the wheel, long fingers delicately tracing its curve - a slow, tender touch before he grips it firmly and the engine roars and they are off like a comet, streaking down the nameless city's streets.]

Shame there isn't much in the way of pedestrians out and about.

[One of Crowley's few truly demonic delights is striking terror into the hearts of those with the audacity to walk.]

How does it feel, angel? I don't think they did anything funny to her but I'm open to a second opinion. Sense anything off...?