The small smile that had come to his face at Gabriel's joke drained away very quickly indeed. He hadn't enough practice lying. He wasn't good at putting walls back up once they'd been taken down, which, tonight, he'd allowed. And yet he couldn't tell Gabriel the truth. In the event that Crowley was here, somewhere, it could compromise his safety. No matter the differences between the Gabriel he'd known and the Gabriel sitting in front of him, the man was still an archangel, and telling the truth was simply too dangerous for everyone concerned.

Now if only he had a decent cover story, and knew how to lie without giving himself away.

"I associated with humans," he said, as the waiter returned with their drinks. "Human. He knew who I was. He - helped, at the end of the world. He helped me, in general." For a moment he felt fragile and uncomfortable, because it was true, except for the human part. "He was my friend."

The tumbler of scotch was solid in his hand as he raised it to his lips and drank. When he lowered it to the table again, it made a subdued thunk, and brought him back to himself just enough for him to add, "But it's probably better that he's not here, all things considered."

Now it was just a matter of hoping Gabriel believed him. Aziraphale glanced away into the crowd, looking again for that odd glimmer of sick familiarity to be found in Famine's presence, and, on not seeing him, turned back to Gabriel and the table and his scotch with a sigh.