Azazel wasn't usually happy, but he was at The Ritz with his best friend, so of course he was. It was just after Armageddon, and right before the Nightingales Sang.

He sat in his seat, eating his crepes with his fingers. (A rather unsavory habit, but it didn't matter to Jophiel in the slightest) He looked up from his plate, black eyes peering at Jophiel, whom was looking at Azazel intently. "That was quite scrumptious, Jophiel," Azazel chuckled, licking his fingers clean of the chocolate syrup, "why aren't you eating, Jophiel?" He tilted his head to the left side.