Ineffable

Niagara Falls

The two old friends had agreed to meet at the Niagara Falls Hilton, a hotel which, admittedly, had seen better times. Crowley arrived first, left his rented Mercedes with the valet, and entered the dark bar. He ordered a Bloody Mary and looked about the dimly lit room. The decor involved a good deal of red velvet and oak. A multitude of crystal chandeliers sparkled above. A pianist, seated at a gleaming black piano, played favorites from the seventies, eighties and nineties. Crowley's drink was prepared by a handsome bartender - a bit too handsome for the surroundings, Crowley thought. He sipped his drink and checked his cell phone. He wanted a cigarette, but that was out of the question here. He tapped the pack in his shirt pocket, impatiently. He took another drink, and scrolled through his phone. The blue light glinted off his dark glasses, which he did not remove, although the room was dim.

Aziraphale arrived, looking dead handsome, as always, although Crowley had not seen him in over a decade. The angel knew how to dress, Crowley had to give him that. Tonight he wore a deep blue button down that brought out the color in his eyes and white jeans that accentuated the generous curve of his arse. Crowley would never dress that gay, but Aziraphale could pull it off. He rose from his barstool, and the two men airkissed, european style, on both cheeks. Aziraphale was freshly shaved, his cherubic cheeks baby smooth, and Crowley's pulse quickened as he caught a whiff of the angel's scent.

"You're looking well," said Crowley.

"Ah, yes, well, I've been slimming," Aziraphale responded.

Crowley smirked. Aziraphale was always one to try out human fads, whatever they might be. He remembered a time of heavy investment in the Amsterdam tulip trade in the 1600s, as well as a period of long hair and love beads in the 1960s.

They were shown to a table with a view of the falls. Crowley ordered a second Bloody Mary and the 24 ounce steak with fries from their waiter, another exceptionally good looking young man. Crowley imagined the employment opportunities in this particular backwater of upstate New York were quite limited. Aziraphale ordered the vegetarian pasta primavera.

"Since when are you a vegetarian?" asked Crowley when their order arrived. He dug into his streak with gusto. Aziraphale picked at his food with distaste. He sipped a glass of mineral water prissily.

"Oh, it's been about five years now," said Aziraphale. He took a small bite, then shuddered and put down his fork.

"Why?" asked Crowley, with genuine curiosity.

"Oh, you know, better for me, better for the planet. Doing my small part for the environment. Did you know that if everyone on earth stopped eating meat tomorrow, global warming could be pushed back by ten years at least?"

Crowley rolled his eyes and continued chewing. He cut off a piece of juicy red meat and waved it in front of Aziraphale's face. "Can I tempt you, Angel? It's delicious."

"No, thank you," said Aziraphale primly.

"You know you want it," said Crowley, in his best tempter's voice, sibilant and soft. The very voice that had convinced Eve to taste the first apple. Completely irresistible. But Aziraphale knew the demon's tricks.

"Have you seen Warlock?" asked Aziraphale, to distract him.

"Oh yes," replied Crowley. He popped the piece of meat in his mouth and chewed contentedly. "He's doing great! Really makes me proud. A rising attorney in the Trump department of justice. They love him at the White House. He'll go far, that boy. You should go visit him. He'd love to see you."

"I.....do miss him," said Aziraphale, remembering the years he had spent as a gardener for Warlock's family during the boy's childhood. "But.....it's not really a good time. You know. The home office wouldn't like it."