A flash bastard

Crowley stumbles his way out of his and Aziraphale's bedroom at... some hour of the morning. Afternoon? ...Evening? No, there's too much light. He squints in the brightness. Aziraphale's side of the bed was empty, which means he's most likely reading away in the library¹. Crowley doesn't necessarily need sleep -- but he likes it. It feels nice. Most of the time. Unfortunately, sometimes he has a very human side effect from sleep, and he wakes up more tired than he fell asleep. It's a scam. Coffee. He needs coffee. Six shots of espresso. No, make it seven.

As he makes his way to the café, he sees a figure out of the corner of his eye looming out at him from a corner and he startles with a faint Ngk noise -- but it's only Jared. Jared is wearing a black jacket, a red wig, and a pair of sunglasses.

He pauses, taking in the outfit.

"H'lo Jared," Crowley mumbles blearily, "why the fuck has someone dressed you up like Gideon?" -- and he stumbles off, continuing on to the café.

¹As opposed to reading away in the bedroom. He likes to get his steps in.