‘This is a very odd gun, you know. Very strange.’ ‘I thought your side disapproved of guns,’ said Crowley. He took the gun from the angel’s plump hand and sighted along the stubby barrel. ‘Current thinking favours them,’ said Aziraphale. ‘They lend weight to moral argument. In the right hands, of course.’ ‘Yeah?’ Crowley snaked a hand over the metal. ‘That’s all right, then. Come on.’
