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Rome - 41 AD
“Oh well, allow me to tempt you….”
The angel blushed to a stop. “…but that’s your job isn’t it?” He stammered, trying to regain a little dignity.
He was rewarded with a smirk. But a friendly smirk.
And just a few hours later, Aziraphale and Crowley found themselves seated at Petronius’ new restaurant. It was exceedingly pleasant. The last of the day’s sunlight filtered through lattice work above them and the warm air brought the faint aromas of recent spring rain and cooking food.
“Where are you off to next?” Aziraphale asked.
“Byzantium. Lively place I’ve heard. You?”
“I fear I am being sent up north. Some place called, Lutetia. I hope it is not too cold.”
“I’ve been there. Middle of nowhere really. But this time of year it shouldn’t be cold. Bit muddy, but not that cold.”
Aziraphale nodded appreciatively.
Aziraphale had ordered a dozen raw oysters and a side dish of spring greens and feta, while a skeptical Crowley had ordered 3 raw and 3 baked. And a jug of wine to share, though the demon would end up drinking most of it.
As the wine was brought and Aziraphale took a sip, Crowley commented, “I see you have managed to get over your ‘distaste’ for wine.”
“Well,” Aziraphale commented with only the tiniest tinge of embarrassment, “Since my, um, ‘work’ these days seem less about, “I am angel of the Lord Thy God!” and “Auvaunt-ing,” and more about blending in with the humans, this seems to be one of the more effective ways.”
“Gotten drunk yet?”
“Certainly not!! I’ll leave that to you.” He finished with a smirk of his own.
Crowley took no offense. “More for me then,” he said raising his cup.
The food arrived quickly; the raw oysters fat and gleaming in their opened shells, wedges of lemon on the side.
“Right,” Aziraphale instructed, “Good squeeze of lemon, then just let the whole thing slide out of its shell and into your mouth.” He demonstrated, delighting in the rich briney taste of sea and salt, and nodded at Crowley encouragingly.
Still dubious, the demon mimicked the angel’s actions but almost immediately gagged. He manage to get the oyster down by chasing it with a large gulp of wine, but then said, “BLEAH…phlegm!! Nose snot!!!”
“Oh dear, I am so sorry you don’t like it. Perhaps the baked ones will be more to your liking.”
Crowley took his two remaining raw oysters and put them on Aziraphale’s plate, still trying to get the taste and texture from his tongue.
“Well thank you. But do have some of my greens, please. They are not ‘phlegmy’ at all. Perhaps they will help clear your palate.
Crowley reluctantly nibbled on a dandelion green, even more reluctant to admit that it did indeed help.
“You know,” he said, watching Aziraphale down and savor his oysters, “some humans think these have an aphrodisiac effect.”
“Really? I have never noticed anything like that. But then, I’m not human.” He said with a satisfied smile.
“Right.” The demon nodded slowly.
After a while Crowley worked up the courage to try the baked oysters and pronounced them, “edible anyway, but not anything I would go out of my way for.”
Azirapahle frowned and started to apologize for bringing Crowley to a place he liked so little, but the demon waved him off. “Its all right..wine’s good. Very good, in fact.”
The after a moment he added, “Makes you wonder though, who was the first bloke to actually try and eat one of these things, the way they look and all.”
“Hmmm, yes. And they ARE the devils own…oh, sorry!…to even get open. I suppose they saw the sea creatures eating them and thought it was worth having a go.”
“Suppose.”
“It IS so interesting about humans and food, generally, though.” Aziraphale said thoughtfully.
“How so?”
“Well, I mean, humans were designed to need food and water for their existence. That is pretty much it. Shelter or warmth too I suppose, but basically food and water. Energy. So they can survive and procreate. Like cattle, or a lions.
“Yeah, so?”
“And yet they are so creative and endlessly curious and…expansive about not just WHAT they eat but the way they eat it.”
As if on cue, their platter of fresh and dried fruits was placed in front of them; the fruits arranged by color and shape to form an almost perfect spiral. A near nautilus of fruit.
“Like that,” Aziraphale laughed.
“Yeah…well it’s a restaurant isn’t it? Gotta give people something worth paying for.”
“But it’s not JUST that. Quite ordinary people go out of their way to expend extra energy if you will… to turn simple sustenance into something more than that. Logically it makes little sense, but they always seem to do it.
“Well, just covering something up with some herbs to take the ‘rank’ off it, doesn’t count for much. The real breakthrough was salt.”
“Yes, of course, but that is just in terms of safety; I am talking something different from that. The simplest loaf a bread can be just that, or it can be baked in a design, or with scarring and shape, manipulated to make it look like everything from a simple braid to the head of a minotaur. At least, what they imagine a minotaur might look like it, and that’s the thing….imagination!”
Crowley smiled behind his wine cup as Aziraphale fully warmed to his subject. He always did enjoying winding the angel up about something but now he found watching him wind himself up was almost as enjoyable.
“And do you remember Job’s ox ribs?”
Crowley genuinely laughed. “Not as well as you do, I’ll warrant.”
Azirphale had the grace to blush, but plunged on anyway.
“Yes, but once I was at a ..well..party …here..and there was a roasted ox there too. But the humans had somehow taken it apart and rebuilt the ribs to represent an entire mountain range!! The lower bits were covered with greens and on the top was what, I must say was a GREAT deal of salt. And then there was a river of blue green aspic flowing at the bottom. It was VERY impressive. Though one does wonder where the color came from. Greens and berries... I hope.” He added thoughtfully.
“A ‘party’ angel? What kind of party?’ Crowley laughed some more.
“A perfectly fine party. Nothing untoward. Nothing of what I assume you are assuming.” The angel replied firmly.
He selected a piece of fruit. And then another. And after a pause, expanded enthusiastically on his thesis.
“And of course, its not just food.” Aziraphale nearly bounced in his seat in excitement. “The other day, in the market? Well, of course almost no one but the upper classes can read and most of the shop signs that do have writing…well, the the spelling is beyond atrocious… so, many of them have illustrations depicting their wares. Most are quite crude, but some are just wonderful. There was a poultry seller whose stall had a sign outside depicting a mother duck followed by her ducklings. Quite enchanting.
“Ducklings to the slaughter. Enchanting” Crowley remarked.
But Aziraphale ignored him. “And UNECESSARY! Which is the point! Anyone could see just by looking into the stall what they sold. Live and slaughtered poultry; but the HUMAN owner somehow had the skill AND felt compelled to to create that sign. Even though someone probably told him it was a waste of time and energy.”
He popped a fig into his mouth with a satisfied gleam.
“Well, I’ll give you they are pretty innovative.” Crowley conceded. "I saw a new version of a grain mill out by a farm. Clever by half. Real engineering step up. They will double their output in less than a year.”
“Oh! Honestly, I think I saw the same thing…an ‘assignment’ wanted to show me this new wonderful machine. But did YOU notice all the graceful etching that covered the wooden supports? Filagree. Useless. And yet!” He concluded. More than a little triumphantly.
As they finished the last of the wine a companionable silence fell over them, but after a while, Crowley noticed Aziraphale’s brow furrow in what looked like anxiety. Swiftly he looked around to see if any occult or ethereal beings were observing them, but he sensed none. Just the mellow hum of well fed humans.
“What are you thinking about, angel? Bad oyster getting to you?”
The angel smiled…”Oh no, nothing like that. But Crowley,” and here he paused and looked around as if he too was worried about being overheard. Satisfied, he still leaned in closer. “I saw the plans for humans…well, earth, more broadly. And,” he paused and blushed a bit, “as far as life forms went, well honestly I worked more in the invertebrate section…which I loved!…so much diversity…oysters!.. but I DID see the plans for humans.”
There was a longish pause.
“And?” Crowley prompted.
“Well, its just that I don’t remember anything being,” he fluttered his hands about a bit, “‘outlined’ referring to this kind of imagination and creativity.”
He pushed on before he could overthink too much…and because oddly, completely bonkers actually, as it might seem, he trusted Crowley….a demon…more than anyone else he could talk too. Even hinting at such questions in heaven earned him little but impatience and scorn.
“And I just wondered if perhaps humans haven’t developed in a way even She,” (and here he really did lower his voice.), couldn’t, or, well didn’t plan? And what that might mean?”
“What!? Good ‘ol omnipotent HER?!” Crowley replied with scorn. Then outright laughed, “Serve Her right if they went totally off whatever rails she thought She’s laid out for them.”
Aziraphale looked appropriately shocked. Even if something within in him simply continued to wonder.
“Anyway,” Crowley said, a little more softly, “Bit too late to turn back now, don’t you think? Of course,” he added morosely, “She could just tip over the whole apple cart ahead of schedule. Wouldn’t put it past her.” He sighed. “Still not much we can do about it. Us or the humans. Just play the cards we are dealt.”
“Yes, I suppose you are right,” Aziraphale nodded, but the said anxiously, “Its just that sometimes I wonder if I should warn them. You know, that perhaps they have strayed from the Almighty’s path?”
“Warn them?!? You don’t even know what THE path is!!”
“No, no, of course. You are right,” he said more firmly this time, but then added with a small sigh, “Its just that I DO worry about them.”
Crowley downed the last of the wine. “You’ve been worried about them since the garden…ever see that sword again?” Which earned him a deep frown from Aziraphale.
“Anyway”, the demon continued as he stood, “they seem to be faring well enough…all over the bloody planet. They may be more ‘creative’ than even you or Her think. C’mon. Time to leave the restaurant.”
And so the two man shaped non humans strolled off into the Roman evening. When they came to where they would part ways, Crowley said, “You know, when you are up in Lutetia, if you want, you should ask around for the caves with all the pictures….drawings. Not that far. A local could show you. You might see your creative humans got quite a jump.”
“Really? That’s very…” Aziraphale struggled find a word that WASN’T ‘kind’ or ‘thoughtful’ or ‘nice’ which he had already learned but somehow still occasionally forgot, upset the demon, and so settled on a simple. “Thank you.”
“Course, I COULD just be setting you up.” Crowley suddenly said. "Getting you to go into a cave of wild beasts or even the damed. I AM a demon after all,” and said demon leaned cooly against a building, regarding the angel with interest.
Said angel returned the look and smiled. “Indeed you are. A demon that is. But you won’t do that.” And he smiled a smile that managed to find the perfect balance of ever so slightly smug and genuine warmth. “Good night Crowley. Mind how you go.” And Aziraphale stepped into the night.
Turning down his own path, Crowley muttered a grudgingly amused “bastard” as he disappeared in the darkness.