Crowley lifted his martini and looked speculatively at the bald man across the room, who was currently nursing his own gin and tonic in a weary fashion.
"Don't even think about it," Aziraphale said. "You've got the other one."
"In theory," Crowley said. "Right now he's entirely absorbed in playing father-figure to disturbed teenagers, which is not exactly wildly sinful."
"It's not my fault if you're having trouble," Aziraphale said, sipping his brandy. "He's got enough vulnerabilities that it should be like sinking a sieve. The poor boy."
"He's nearly fifty," Crowley pointed out. Aziraphale waved a hand dismissively of the point. "Anyway, I didn't say I was having trouble as such. Just that I'm not sure why I agreed you could have the one with the power to make people do what he wants."
"Because you said the other one was just waiting to happen to someone," Aziraphale said. "It's no use changing your mind now." Aziraphale pushed his glass away and motioned for the check. "An agreement is an agreement."
"Right," Crowley said, and watched Aziraphale leave. He glanced back over at Xavier, who looked up at him curiously. Crowley shrugged nonchalently. It wasn't his fault if Xavier was interested in him, he told himself as Xavier made his way over to the table.
"May I?" Xavier asked.
"Sure," Crowley said. It would have been rude not to at least let him sit down.
Xavier examined him thoughtfully. "Why do you think you're a demon?"
Crowly cursed under his breath. At least the other one never asked questions like that. He tried harder to be impervious to telepathy, which always felt like trying to hold his breath and hum.
"Because I am a demon," he said. He smiled brightly.
"You know, whatever you've done, it's not too late to make up for it."
"What, repent? You don't even believe in God."
"I believe everyone can be better than they are."
"And if they don't get better, then they're just not trying, are they?"
"That's not what I meant," Xavier said, but he sounded troubled. Crowley itched to pursue that line of conversation, but he felt he probably ought not drag this encounter out. He really didn't want Aziraphale meddling with Lehnsherr, who was nicely poised for a fairly dramatic breakdown any day now.
"Of course not," Crowley said. "People just need a little push sometimes to get them to do the right thing, though, don't they?" He motioned for the check.
"That's not going to work," Xavier said.
Crowley shrugged. "Just a thought."
He wondered whether it was possible to provoke Xavier into using his powers in some significantly soul-tarnishing way without allowing him to remove Lehnsherr's tendency toward destructive violence. There was always the girl, although something about the girl made Crowley nervous.
When Crowley left the bar, he nearly ran into Aziraphale, who gave him a baleful look.
"I see that's your idea of respecting an agreement," Aziraphale said.
"You can have a drink with Lehnsherr if you like," Crowley said. "Feel free to try to convince him that God isn't dead."
"I suppose I should," Aziraphale said. "I never particularly enjoy those conversations, though."
"You could tell him the whole thing was just some humans' idea of a good time, and that your people were very upset the whole time. It probably took all the fun out of harp-playing for a whole five or six years until everybody forgot about it."
"Until we did," Aziraphale said, staring at the bar window as if seeing something there other than his own reflection in the glass.
"Want another drink?" Crowley asked after a while.
"I thought you'd never ask."
They went to another bar down the street by silent mutual agreement, where Crowley felt he could stop trying to make his head impossible to see through. Aziraphale ordered more port. Crowley ordered a gin and tonic.
Outside, he could see Xavier making his way down the street, where he was met by a dark-haired man and a red-haired girl, who seemed to have been shopping. Aziraphale looked up and followed Crowley's gaze. The sun caught in the girl's hair, turning it fiery red.
"You know, sometimes she reminds me of someone," Aziraphale said.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Crowley said, and tried not to think about swords.
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