Glancing up to meet Adam’s eyes, he shivered inwardly with a sense of... something. It was not evil, he knew; Gabriel didn’t quite understand how the son of the Adversary could feel so neutral, but he plainly did. Evil did not taint that unassuming face or reside in those clear blue eyes.

There was, Gabriel realized quickly, something infinitely more worrisome there: Power.

He’d never had a being so powerful offer him a watercress sandwich before.

It wasn’t strictly necessary, of course, since – despite Aziraphale’s persistent pouting – angels did not need to eat. And yet, he didn’t feel he could turn it down. If he were honest about it, it seemed rather...

Sweet.

He didn’t think the Antichrist was supposed to be sweet.

A smile lit the archangel's eyes as he accepted Adam’s offering. “Thank you,” he said, and found that he meant it. “Please, have a seat.”