Honored guests didn’t get pulled rudely from their afternoon tea, without even a chance to close up shop or alert their dinner partner they would be unable to make it. It was not how things were done. Aziraphale would know. He’d been an honored guest at more than a handful of kingdoms over the years. None had ever relocated him suddenly and against his will. That was more Heaven’s thing. This was just...

Well. It wasn’t the worst, he supposed. He didn’t really understand why he was here, or where here was, if it even fit into Her creation. But he was dressed now and warm. The library was intriguing, as was the dining hall, but for the strangest reason, the dungeons and their world threatening, forbidden prisoners were the apple that finally tempted him. The angel smiled at the guards, promised he only wanted to see what sort of dangerous beings were kept down here...he would come right back.

He wandered the halls by the cells. They were rank and disgusting, and he had no idea why he felt so compelled to be here. Just when he planned to turn back and return upstairs, a familiar voice caught his ear. Aziraphale would recognize that brooding, kvetching grumble anywhere.

Crowley...!!

And here they were, literally on opposite sides again, upstairs downstairs, everything shockingly familiar and unwanted.

“It is a bit cliche,” he admitted, standing on the opposite side of the bars from Crowley. “Whatever did you do to get locked in there?”