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*Crowley walks back in from by the lake, and, seeing the elf gone, turns to the bar. He orders a glass of Atlantean, which he downs.

Pale, tired, and... seeming somehow slightly transparent, he does not look what one might call well. However, he looks better than when he came in, the colour gradually returning to his cheeks.

He glances down at his clothes, and, rather more slowly than might be expected, they flicker back from elvish attire into his habitual garb*

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*Aziraphael walks over. A little faster than a walk, actually. Rather more like a jog. He places a hand on Crowley's back*

Good evening, my dear.

*there's a smile in his voice to match that on his face*

*he grins widely, albeit rather tiredly*

Evening, angel.

You're looking...

*he struggles for a polite term.

...

...

He gives up*

Absolutely terrible.

Yes, well, you know the fonts of good and evil in our universe, the ultimate sources of Light and Dark from which we draw sustenance?

Turns out Eä doesn't have that.

Well, I mean, there's a sort of vague equivalent, but... really, really not the same.

Oh. Bugger.

Sit down. Can I get you anything? Are you alright?

No, I'm fine, really, I'm just...

*he sways, just a little, and sits down smoothly, concealing it*

...Some coffee would not go unappreciated.

*he doesn't even bother ordering, doesn't take his hand from Crowley's back. Coffee appears in front of him, an enormous mug, just as he likes it*

*wrapping his hands around the mug, Crowley inhales the aroma of the bitter black liquid, before taking several large sips, heedless of the heat that would burn another's tongue*

...I needed that.

Thank you, angel.

It's my curse. Doomed to look after you for all eternity.

*he takes the seat next to Crowley and leans into him slightly, offering support*

*he slumps a little in his chair, although he's looking better with every minute that passes*

So, how's the world been in my absence? How're you? How's 'Skander? Tonks, Door, Tom, et al?

I... er...

*he flushes*

Well, I've been holed up reading Lord of the Rings, as a matter of fact. 'Skander is fine, of course.

*he grins, sipping his coffee*

What, you haven't got it memorised already?

Yes. Of course. But I missed you.

*smiling*

I have to admit, camerado, I was feeling the lack of apple tea.

*Aziraphael reaches over and links his fingers with Crowley's*

It's lovely to know I'm good for something.

Well, if you're still looking for a purpose in life, I suppose you could bring me my pipe and slippers when I come home in the evening.

*he's grinning the same sardonic grin as always, and is scanning the bar nonchalantly, but, behind the oversized coffee mug, his fingers are still twined with the angel's*

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*Tonks stops on her way out and puts a hand on his shoulder, smiling*

Still in one piece, I see.

*grins wryly*

Just about.

Glad to hear it. Try and get some, uh, rest tonight, yeah?

*she winks*

*rolls his eyes*

Why, going to come over and, uh, tuck me in?

*she grins and reddens, slightly*

No, that's okay, I think I'd best stay well away from that.

*grins back, tiredly*

Good to see you, Tonks.

You too, Crowley. See you soon.

*she squeezes his shoulder lightly and leaves*

Starscream-Angel* (http://www.livejournal.com/community/milliways_bar/890467.html?thread=31306083#t31306083) walks over, looking slightly confused and annoyed.
"You seem to be in charge around here. Could you possibly tell me why the slag I got turned into a fleashie with wings?
(OOC: You'll probably want to read the post, hehe.)

[OOC: Drool. Lots of drool. Ohhhhhhhh dear.]

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