"There's a half-decent cafe, if you're needing your caffeine fix." The coffee's alright, anyway, if the number of people who wander in is any indication. Crowley himself usually drinks tea, and that's only mostly because the angel insists. But he rattles off the address without much in the way of hesitation, considering he's most of the way there already.
"I'll meet you there, shall I?" It is his territory, after all.
"Well, I do love a good caffeine fix," he says, checking the location and wheeling in the middle of the sidewalk to cut up a side street toward the cafe. Perhaps they'll have sandwiches.
They do have sandwiches, but they also have fresh-made scones. Magnus lingers at the window, looking over the menu with approval, and then peers inside to see if Crowley's already arrived. He slips through the door with a smile directed at the table containing one demon. "Hello, my dear. I must say, tea service just isn't the same in New York."
"I'd think not," Crowley says with a somewhat disdainful sniff as he watches the warlock settle from behind dark glasses. He looks good, much as he always does, which is a bit of a relief. Considering how much time Magnus spends avoiding London, Crowley had expected...well, honestly he's not sure what. But he hasn't gotten it, so that's fine. "What do Americans know about proper tea?"
He tips his head down just far enough for a flash of yellow eyes over the rim of his glasses, a smirk very visible in them. "And to think you said you'd never come."
"Yes, yes, you've tempted me into a visit," Magnus says, wiggling his fingers a little dramatically, and turns the gesture into summoning over one of the servers to order a pot of tea and a scone. "You can't take all the credit, you know. I was already in the area on business, and visiting a friend."
But it did seem like quite a coincidence. One it didn't seem wise to pass up. And he does enjoy seeing Crowley, just about the only demon in Hell worth spending any time around.
Taking the credit for occasional happenstance is almost entirely what Crowley does, but he lets that go with just a look of vague amusement from behind his glasses. Mostly because Magnus is ordering them tea, and he wouldn't put it past the warlock to slip something horrible in there if he's too obnoxious.
He waits until the server wanders off again before lifting an eyebrow. "Do I want to know what business your lot has around here? Should I be on the lookout for a plague of frogs?"
"Please, the plague of frogs thing is more than a little passé. Not to mention angelic, historically." Magnus dismisses the idea with a flick of his fingers, filling their water glasses at the same time and taking a sip of his own.
"Around here, in London? The High Warlock get-together. Every ten years or so. Ragnor Fell hosted this year. It's just a little gathering. Keeping everyone updated. Why?" He blinks innocently across the table. "What business does your lot have around here?"
"Excuse me, I live here," Crowley says with a sniff. His lot have absolutely nothing to do with it, which is exactly how Crowley likes it. "And a heads up about a ton of warlocks running around might have been nice. Who knows what drunken insanity you all get up to."
Though more, it's likely to be hilarious and Crowley definitely wants a front seat. But he's mostly avoided the magic types for a reason, present company excepted. Some people get entirely too many ideas about demons.
"There were only six of us, thank you, and the only insanity we got up to was a brief argument about which city had invented risotto. Besides," Magnus smirks as he sits back, "there are already a ton of warlocks running around here."
But he understands why Crowley might not realize that. Most demons are bad news, Crowley is the very rare, perhaps unique, exception. Besides, most warlocks keep themselves hidden quite well, and contrary to the natural assumption, most New Age style crystal-and-herb stores aren't run by warlocks. Tailor shops are more likely to have warlock proprietors, as it happens, and he knows at least one long-established Savile Row label has had the same tailor since 1806.
"Better than a ton of demons running around, though. Why London?"
He can't help but make a face at the idea of that many magic types running around under his nose, but if he hasn't had any issues with them so far, Crowley can't really complain too much. As much as he might like to.
"Why not?" He says instead with an insouciant shrug. Mostly because he can't actually remember why he and the angel had decided to settle in London in the first place. Seemed like a good idea at the time. "Guarantee I've been here longer than any of your lot, anyway."
"Oh, I had no idea you owned London," Magnus says tartly, then beams up at the server when she brings over his pot of tea. "This looks delightful," he exclaims, leaning over to inhale the steam, though he knows the tea needs a little more time to steep. Much as he's looking forward to it, he's patient. Good things are worth the wait.
Crowley may not eat, but he's got plenty of experience with someone who does, which means he ca just wait patiently for Magnus to finish his ritual. Honestly, he can't tell if introducing the warlock to the angel would be the worst idea in history or a source of endless amusement. Or both.
"Maybe I do," he says with a flicker of a grin. "It's as good a place as any to own."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
"I'll meet you there, shall I?" It is his territory, after all.
no subject
They do have sandwiches, but they also have fresh-made scones. Magnus lingers at the window, looking over the menu with approval, and then peers inside to see if Crowley's already arrived. He slips through the door with a smile directed at the table containing one demon. "Hello, my dear. I must say, tea service just isn't the same in New York."
no subject
He tips his head down just far enough for a flash of yellow eyes over the rim of his glasses, a smirk very visible in them. "And to think you said you'd never come."
no subject
But it did seem like quite a coincidence. One it didn't seem wise to pass up. And he does enjoy seeing Crowley, just about the only demon in Hell worth spending any time around.
no subject
He waits until the server wanders off again before lifting an eyebrow. "Do I want to know what business your lot has around here? Should I be on the lookout for a plague of frogs?"
no subject
"Around here, in London? The High Warlock get-together. Every ten years or so. Ragnor Fell hosted this year. It's just a little gathering. Keeping everyone updated. Why?" He blinks innocently across the table. "What business does your lot have around here?"
no subject
Though more, it's likely to be hilarious and Crowley definitely wants a front seat. But he's mostly avoided the magic types for a reason, present company excepted. Some people get entirely too many ideas about demons.
no subject
But he understands why Crowley might not realize that. Most demons are bad news, Crowley is the very rare, perhaps unique, exception. Besides, most warlocks keep themselves hidden quite well, and contrary to the natural assumption, most New Age style crystal-and-herb stores aren't run by warlocks. Tailor shops are more likely to have warlock proprietors, as it happens, and he knows at least one long-established Savile Row label has had the same tailor since 1806.
"Better than a ton of demons running around, though. Why London?"
no subject
"Why not?" He says instead with an insouciant shrug. Mostly because he can't actually remember why he and the angel had decided to settle in London in the first place. Seemed like a good idea at the time. "Guarantee I've been here longer than any of your lot, anyway."
no subject
no subject
"Maybe I do," he says with a flicker of a grin. "It's as good a place as any to own."