"You know what?"
Aziraphale watched Crowley with a faintly amused look on his face. They were still in the Ritz, had been for about three hours, and by now the demon had drunk about four bottles of wine (with an increased alcohol content, of course).
"What, dear boy?"
Crowley held up an éclair and tried to focus on it. "Éclairs… they're pretty damn cool."
Aziraphale took a dainty sip of his wine. "Yes. Your side made a good invention there."
"Whazzit?" Crowley looked up in surprise. "Nah, your side made them."
"No. Éclairs encourage gluttony."
"But they taste like heaven." Crowley sighed. "You know what the best bit of an éclair is?"
Aziraphale smiled indulgently at the black haired demon. His glasses were slipping down his nose, the normally immaculate Crowley rapidly becoming dishevelled. It was rather adorable really. The angel reached across and pushed them back up his compatriot's nose. "Which bit?"
"The middle bit." Crowley's forked tongue darted out from his lips and lapped at the cream. A strange mix of snake and cat.
I want an éclair.