[Breathing a sigh of relief, Quentin picks himself up off the floor and finds his way back to the table and his stack of apparently useless books. He looks at them, sighing again, because -- why not? Why couldn't this be something easy and straightforward? Like a jigsaw puzzle. Those were easy and to the point, instead this whole place is more like the Sudoku game on the tablets, frustrating and pissing him off by shoving his inability to do anything about it in his face.
So, that's how Aziraphale will find him, if he gets back with tea. Hunched over the table, head on his arms and looking for all the world as a puppy who was just kicked.]
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So, that's how Aziraphale will find him, if he gets back with tea. Hunched over the table, head on his arms and looking for all the world as a puppy who was just kicked.]