Aziraphale beamed at Owen. "No, I am actually rather ancient," he said, chuckling. "Quite a lot older than you, I'd imagine. But I think it would quite spoil the fun if I was any more specific."

That had nearly been a joke. He was approaching happiness, the haze of alcohol covering over his recent case of roiling nerves. He was meant to chill out. Live in the moment. And drink, obviously.

He peered into his glass, then tilted it back and swallowed the rest. "Hm," he said, considering, and then, "I hope there's things to do in the City, when we get there. More than this. Not that I don't enjoy this, here, now, but it's not a real City."