"Azzy, if you survived London for centuries, that's impressive," Gabriel said with a snort. His humour was mostly feigned, for now, but he needed some lightening up and hopefully it would catch on.

That didn't mean he missed the initial hesitation or the way Aziraphale's face fell. He was a terrible liar, and was equally obviously hiding something. The archangel looked down at his beer, drained the rest of it, and ordered bourbon.

"That's nice," he said calmly as he set the bottle aside, his eyes glittering. "So now you can tell me what you're holding back. Tit for tat and all that." He'd spilled on Aziraphale and embarrassed himself. It was just fairness that Aziraphale did the same.