Cardinal

"You're staring." Aziraphale's mouth was hanging open, which in a lesser man would be unappealing. Aziraphale, however, was neither lesser nor man. The angel had been gazing longingly through the window of the small patisserie for what felt like hours but was probably just minutes. Crowley lost track of time, watching him... enjoy things.

"Was I?" Aziraphale's eyes widened, that shade of blue Crowley had never seen anywhere else in Creation. "Sorry, I just haven't seen pastries like that since Paris in the 1800s."

"You're pathetic," Crowley snarled, licking his lips absent-mindedly.

"Well," Aziraphale bristled, "they're delicious."

Yes. He was.