“Angel! I’m back.”

“I say, are you inside this confounded thing?”

“Aziraphale, we’ve been doing this for decades. I know you know how a telephone works.”

“Last time I called you, you just made a noise at me.”

*

Aziraphale got a telephone for the bookshop as soon as they were invented. They’ve regretted it ever since.

For the full text and tags as well as to leave kudos or comments visit the original fic here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/37022758