Trying my hand at TMA fic again. Take a snippet because idk when this will be done

There was something cosmically silly in trying to give a god of surveillance the veneer of privacy, but Oliver had been raised polite by his mother and not even the End could take that from him. So he puttered around Jon’s flat, poking at the odds-and-ends while Jon struggled to rise behind him. It was a remarkably normal looking space, all things considered, but then, Jon had never been drawn to eerie opulence like Elias had. He’d still choose a bowl of microwaved ramen over the meals a couple lifetimes of savings - plus the Lukas’ seemingly endless finances - could buy him now and his wardrobe had never quite left its ‘hobo chic’ stage from his time on the run. Oliver admired the cheap mug smushed between a never-used candle and a dented collection of DVDs - “Bad Eye Puns are How Eye Roll” - and wondered how much of this was the Archivist stubbornly holding onto his humanity in the face of Elias’ coaxing, and how much of it was just… Jon.

Then again, Oliver had once seen Elias grievously work his way through a whole packet of macrons after Melanie had interfered with some plan or another, so maybe it was just a Beholding thing.

A snort came from behind him. “You’re one to talk. You obsessively tend to a flat full of live plants, Oliver.”

Oliver pursed his lips and considered chastising Jon for reading his mind, but he likely couldn’t help it in his condition. Plus, he’d probably already felt his annoyance at the invasion. Instead he said, “Have you ever read Good Omens?”

A pause. “…You think you’re Crowley?”

Oliver shrugged. “Plants are easier than people.”

“Oh good lord.”