"Crowley," Crowley's kitchen radio hissed in a tone like the buzzing of flies. Crowley waved frantically to his companion, who stopped his cleanup and leaned quietly against the kitchen counter.

Crowley composed himself. "Yes, Lord Beelzebub, what is it?"

The radio hissed, crackled, and popped. "We heaaaarr that youuu turnnned an entire zzzzity block into what izzzz a nightmare infeeerno, Crowley."

"Yes," Crowley began. "See, *about* that-"

"It izzzz gooood to zzzzeee you getting back into zzze zzzzzwing of thingzzzz, Crowley. Good work."

"Ah." Crowley cleared his throat. "Thank you, lord."

The radio buzzed one last time then segued right back into 'Stairway to Heaven'. /Ha/, Crowley thought.

Aziraphale pushed off the counter, a blackened *thing* in his fingers. "I say, these cookies are a tad *burnt*, Crowley."

"Shut up, angel."