Any food service worker will have at least one story of that regular. The regular that they loved to see, the one whose order and schedule was memorized by everyone on shift, the regular who caused alarm if they hadn't been seen in a while, the regular who influenced a smile when you would see them walk in the door.
For the staff of the Ritz, the regular(s), as they were a pair, that came to mind would be Mr. Fell and Mr. Crowley (although he insisted just Crowley was alright).
Whenever a new staff member would be hired by the Ritz, as a part of their training - it was quite literally in the handbook - they would quickly be briefed on Mr. Fell and Crowley and then would be added into the staff-wide group chat where the pair were a constant feature of conversation.
The two were an enigma, an interesting puzzle that the staff would observe with curious eyes.
Having been patrons of the restaurant for as long as anyone could remember - even the executive chef, a man named Aaron who had been employed by the establishment for over thirty years, admitted to remembering Mr. Fell and Crowley dining at the Ritz since at least the day he had interviewed for the dish boy position back in the day.
Mr. Fell was a kind and bubbly man who was very bright - lighting up the room with his cheery personality, and dressing in soft and light beiges, consistently wearing a neat vest and pressed pants that always looked pristine. His hair, which tended to stick up every which way, was a very light blonde, almost a pure white. Mr. Fell was sweet and patient with each staff member of the Ritz - and was always delighted to learn when a new member to the staff was training on his and Crowley's table. No matter what dish he was served, Mr. Fell adored all the food he had ever eaten at the Ritz and seemed the cherish each and every bite.
Every staff member, without fail, had a story of a time where Mr. Fell had made their day with one of his compliments or comments.
Crowley was tall, handsome, and slender. His red hair tended to be styled neatly, and he was always dark - both in personality and outfit choice. He tended to have a rather sarcastic tone but was never cruel to any of the staff. Unlike Mr. Fell's outfit, Crowley preferred skinny jeans tighter than a boa constrictor and dressed in all black. He preferred drinks over food, but would occasionally get a small appetizer or a dessert to try. He, rather eccentrically, wore dark sunglasses that obscured his eyes.
No staff member could claim to remember ever seeing Crowley without the shades.
The very distinct two had never been seen apart, for as long as they had dined at the Ritz. It was always Mr. Fell and Crowley, never just Mr. Fell, never just Crowley.
That was... until today.
Avery gulped, clutching a stack of menus she had just cleared to her chest as she slowly walked to the maître d' stand by the entrance to the Ritz, where the maître d' - a man named Francis, who kept the waiters and waitresses in line with an iron fist - had beckoned her to.
"Yes, Francis?" Avery nervously asked, looking up at the taller man as she tried to hide her nerves. Everyone knew that while Francis was a joy to speak with outside of working hours, you didn't want to be called to speak with him while you were on the clock - since that usually meant you messed something up. Avery had already gotten in trouble earlier in the day for a stain on her shirt that she hadn't noticed while getting ready for her shift, and she wasn't looking forward to another dressing down, "Is something wrong?"
"Avery, nothing's wrong with you, no..." Francis paused, looking down his nose with a concerned expression, "I just had a question for you that I hope you'll be able to answer."
"...Yes?"
"Mr. Fell and Mr. Crowley," Francis glanced over Avery's shoulder at something, before turning his gaze back to her, "They have never dined solo, no? If I remember correctly, they've always dined as a pair. And only ever with each other."
"Yes..." Avery was taken aback, not expecting Francis to bring up Mr. Fell and Crowley of all people. The staff may or may not have a betting pool on what the relationship between the two men was, but Francis was certainly not apart of that gossip circle, "That's right. Aaron's said that they've been coming here together for as long as he's been working here, like thirty years or so at least. Why?"
Francis looked back to the screen displaying the current and upcoming reservations, and exhaled heavily.
"Well, Mr. Crowley just checked in for a reservation, I had Ruth seat him at his usual table - but his reservation was just for one. And when I asked him if he had accidentally forgotten to select two instead of one, or if Mr. Fell would be arriving soon, he told me no, but... he looked terribly sad." Francis shook his head, a frown present on his usually stern features, "I'm not one to meddle or try to snoop in our patron's lives, but I fear something terrible may have happened."
"Oh dear," Avery raised her free hand to cover her mouth, before subtly turning slightly to grant herself a view of Mr. Fell and Crowley's usual table - a view which caused her to gasp.
Crowley was usually seen resting a sharp elbow on the table - an unusual sight for a dining establishment as nice as the Ritz - but he would usually be seen with his chin propped upon that hand, a fond smile on his face as he watched Mr. Fell - Angel he called him, a nickname which had sent the group chat into a frenzy when it was first overheard. Today, there was no smile. Instead, Crowley leaned heavily on the elbow planted against the table as if it was all that kept him upright, his slightly trembling hands clutching a glass of wine as if it were the only thing keeping him tethered, his nose reddened and a somber frown planted firmly on his face.
He looked as if he had been crying.
...a lot.
And the amount of wine bottles that surrounded him, while the staff at the Ritz was no stranger to the insanely high alcohol tolerance possessed by both Mr. Fell and Crowley, it was still a connecting amount. It was far too early in the morning for that amount of alcohol.
"Oh." Avery felt at a loss for words, "Oh, dear."
"I don't know what is going on, but I fear something may have happened to Mr. Fell or their friendship."
"I'll go talk to him." Avery squared her shoulders, setting her menus in the holder beside Francis's screen, "Just to make sure everything is okay."
"Are you sure? It might just be... a weird day, or something." Francis floundered for an excuse, they both knew something wasn't right. Perhaps they could picture Mr. Fell visiting the Ritz alone, as the man loved food, but Crowley seemed to go to the Ritz for one main thing.
Mr. Fell's company.
Avery sighed, steeled herself, and marched over to Crowley's table. It looked lonely, with only one person seated at it compared to the usual two.
Crowley looked up as she approached, as if he knew she was coming on a mission to speak with him, and his broken expression fractured her heart.
"Excuse me Crowley, sir, I was just wondering..." Avery paused, "we noticed that Mr. Fell wasn't joining you tonight, and we just wanted to make sure that everything was alright..?"
"Ah, well... Mr. Fell," Crowley swallowed, his lip quirking downwards for a moment before he steeled his expression, "Mr. Fell left me, I'm afraid. I don't know if we'll... ever be here, together, again."
Avery had to hold back from gasping in shock at Crowley's admission (he has been unusually forthcoming for once) as everything suddenly made sense.
Crowley was... heartbroken.
"I..." Avery paused, clearing her throat as her words got caught in it, "I could stay and listen for a while. If you want someone to rant at or talk to. I'm not busy."
That was a lie, she had a whole section that was bustling, but she had no doubt Francis would handle rearranging the wait staff to cover for her.
"I..." Crowley paused, looking like he was about to decline, his eyebrows furrowing low over his eyes and disappearing behind the dark sunglasses that he wore every time Avery had ever seen him. He let out a sigh, wiping a hand over his face, looking far more tired than Avery had ever seen him. "I just might take you up on that offer."
Avery slipped gently into the seat across from Crowley, perched on the edge so she could get up in a moments notice if the man made it clear her presence wasn't wanted.
"I suppose it all began when I met Mr. Fell, many years ago..."
And over the course of multiple hours - far past the end of Avery's shift, but she couldn't bring herself to leave the conversation - Crowley told her a tale of differing sides, of differing beliefs, of a friendship that lasted years - a friendship that was perhaps more, and a friendship that was currently threatened. Mr. Fell had been offered a job opportunity, but in a place where he would never see Crowley again, a place which Crowley hated. Crowley had gotten a similar job offer for a place Mr. Fell would have hated and he declined it as he thought it was only common sense to. He had assumed Mr. Fell would have done the same, but unfortunately... Mr. Fell had accepted the promotion, to Crowley's dismay and hurt.
Crowley shared how Mr. Fell didn't choose him, how it hurt him. How just after Crowley confessed the feelings he had held for the man - Avery held back from pumping a fist in the air at the confirmation of their interest in each other, as it wouldn't be appropriate considering -, how just after Crowley had explained how much he loved him, Aziraphale still chose the promotion.
Avery's heart hurt for the couple.
Of course, Crowley didn't share everything with the young waitress, it would hardly be believable if he told her that he was the bloody Snake of Eden and the polite Mr. Fell who loved good food and books was actually an Angel of God who had left him for Heaven. But from what Crowley did tell her, Avery offered comfort and understanding.
"I hope it works out between you, Crowley." Avery smiled gently, "You and Mr. Fell always looked so happy, I'm sure I speak for all of us here at the Ritz when I say we would love to see both of your smiles again."
"Thank you," Crowley nodded, before getting up from his seat, "I must be getting going, but I want you to know I appreciate it."
"It's my pleasure, Crowley." Avery grinned, "You and Mr. Fell are apart of our family here at the Ritz whether you like it or not. And you don't give up on family.
Crowley glanced upwards - Avery snuck a glance, but didn't see anything special on the ceiling - and hummed, before nodding as he made his way to the exit where his car - a Bentley which he vehemently refused to let any of the valets drive - waited.
She noted that the hubcaps were yellow, a detail that she didn't remember from previous times she had seen the car.
"Perhaps you're right," Avery heard him mutter as he left, "...perhaps you're right."
As Avery cleared his table, ignoring the fact that it wasn't in her section (and the fact that she was about two hours over her scheduled clock-out time) and ignoring the constant buzzes of the phone she had in her pocket, which was most definitely the staff groupchat begging for information on what had happened, she prayed for Crowley.
She prayed that Crowley and Mr. Fell would reunite and fix all the wrongs between them.
Only time would tell whether the Ritz would play host to the adorable and unlikely pair ever again.