"Hardly, my dear. And when was the last time I had kippers, anyway?"

Aziraphale sighed. "Sorry," he said. "There's some girl off to your left scrutinizing me, and it's a bit distracting, to be honest. Reminds me of- well, no one really, an old friend, but she's been there for a bit."

The black-haired girl turned away, her green eyes disappearing as she looked down, but Aziraphale had thought, for a moment, entirely out of context and setting (hardly the American civil war!), that he'd known her. But no, Mistress O'Hara had been far more striking.

He shook his head. "Think I'm must be getting a bit drunk, actually. How much have we gone through?"