milliways_bar | (no subject)

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In the last few weeks, he's been keeping hours that start before dawn and end deep into the darkest hours of the night. He looks it, too, enough so that a few media reporters have inquired.

When they do, Gabriel just smiles and tells them that some things are worth giving up a little sleep for.

Still, he knows he can't keep this pace up forever. He doesn't care-- it doesn't matter, as long as he can keep going long enough. Which means, of course, that he's got to find at least a little more time to rest, and soon.

With that in mind, Gabriel brings a sheaf of documents with him to Milliways, and settles at a side booth to review them. If he can get a few hours' work done here instead, then he can spend those extra hours sleeping back in New Mayfair.

Or so he hopes.

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There appears to be another man hard at work in the bar tonight, bent over papers and yellowing file folders as he is. On closer inspection, though, it's clear that he's been staring at the same page for quite a while.

After a few minutes, he looks up, blinking, and rubs his eyes. The soft turning of pages in Gabriel's booth catches his attention and he looks over, sighing.

It's the sigh that draws his attention, and upon noticing the stack of paperwork in front of the other man Gabriel offers him a quick, half-rueful smile.

"It seems you've a long evening in front of you, I'm afraid."

"It's gonna get a lot longer if I don't get past the first page," Raguel agrees, returning the smile in kind.

"You seem to be making progress."

"I've had a lot of practice," Gabriel says dryly. "I advise coffee, if you're at all fond of it. It seems to help."

"I've had quite a bit of practice myself, but coffee's not a bad idea. Helps me focus, sometimes."

He stands up, stretching as various impressive cracking noises make themselves known from his joints.

"Would you like some, while I'm going?"

He glances at his cup as if surprised to find it empty, then nods.

"I'd appreciate that very much. Xièxie nĭ."

Raguel hesitates at the last comment, but goes to get the coffee first. Coffee first is always the best plan. He returns with a tray containing steaming mugs, cream, sugar, saucers - the works.

"Guess she's going all out tonight," he mutters, sliding the tray onto Gabriel's table and pausing to add a boatload of sugar to his coffee.

"There's only one other person I've met here who throws Mandarin into conversations," he says casually, eyes on the mug. "I don't suppose you know Mal Reynolds?"

"I'm acquainted with Captain Reynolds, certainly," Gabriel informs him, with a cordial, pleasant smile and a nod of thanks as he takes a mug of his own.

He shifts it to his left hand and offers his right.

"Gabriel Tam."

He nods, still not quite looking up until Gabriel offers his hand.

"Raguel," he says, shaking it. "It's a complicated universe you're from, or so I hear."

He declines to comment on any ~~slowtimed~~ firsthand experience.

"That's one word for it," he replies.

Dryly.

Very, very dryly.

"Where is it that you're from, Raguel?"

"Lately, Los Angeles in 2007," he says, cradling his coffee as he leans against the side of the booth. He doesn't seem particularly disposed to return to his work.

"Can't really recommend the place. Originally, though... well, it's just called the City. I guess that made more sense when it was the only one."

He grins uncertainly, still a little hesitant to discuss this with strangers. One never quite knows how they're going to take it.

Gabriel nods courteously to the empty seat across from him. "Please-- make yourself comfortable."

A pause.

"The only one?"

He raises his eyebrows in polite inquiry.

"Oh. Obliged," he says with a nod, sliding into the booth. Maybe a few minutes away from the files will help to clear his head.

"Yeah, the only one before all this." A perfunctory wave of his hand, taking in the bar, the observation window, and the door - though implying much more.

"Uh. 'Heaven,' they like to call it in my time. But it has a lot of names."

Gabriel freezes.

(Are you a man of faith?)

"I... see."

There's a long pause, and then,

"So that would make you--"

He lets the question trail off there, open-ended.

"An angel," he prompts, frowning a little, but Gabriel's reaction isn't all that unusual. He does generally get to the part where he explains his function, though, before people start looking nervous.

"You do know it by that name. Maybe things haven't changed as much as I thought."

"I've done some reading on the subject."

Not that he was actually certain what to read, besides a few of the classical texts -- but he has tried.

There's a moment's silence, then,

"You're the second angel that I've met, you see."

"Oh yeah? Who else did you meet?" he asks, hoping the answer might shed some light on the odd reaction.

"I believe he goes by the name Aziraphael here," Gabriel replies.

There's something complex in his expression, just for an instant.

"I know him as a man named Prior Fell."

Raguel rather lights up.

"So he really is going to be a Prior. I wasn't sure I could buy it when Mal mentioned it."

This still doesn't explain Gabriel's odd look, however.

"Is he very different as a Prior?" he asks, delicately.

"What? No--"

Gabriel catches himself and considers the question for a second or two before he amends,

"At least I don't think so. I don't know him well here, you see. But I can't imagine he'd be that different."

A beat, and then Gabriel meets Raguel's glance with a smile that's tired, but almost peaceful.

"He's one of the best people I've ever had the privilege to be acquainted with. Ever."

There's a beat before Raguel responds.

"Yeah. Same here." This should probably carry more impact than it does; after all, Raguel is acquainted with God, in a sense. But on the other hand, 'has met' isn't the same as 'knows.'

"It sounds like you know a fair amount about him, anyway."

"I'd say the reverse is likely to be more accurate," Gabriel replies.

"Or isn't that how it works?"

"I don't know," he says, thoughtful.

"I'm not sure Aziraphael works that way; it's more my way of doing things than his. But he does look beneath the surface somehow, now that you mention it. I don't think I could say it was entirely intuition."

Something tenses about him, just slightly.

"I don't suppose you'd be inclined to elaborate?"

"Don't know if I can," he says slowly. "Aziraphael's function is different from mine, so he has his own way of dealing with people."

He gestures, but can't seem to get out what he's trying to express.

"He takes the time to find out who they are, I guess. I just know."