"Ah." He looked down, ostensibly to just drop the cigarette and squash it. Was he correct in assuming Anthony meant him? Surely. Aziraphale had figured he wouldn't see Anthony again (if at all) unless he had a memory with Aziraphale included. Apparently that had happened now, and under better terms than his memory. Crepes. It sounded almost friendly. He didn't really think crepes was a normal business-lunch sort of food. (Frankly he thought of it as breakfast. Had they had breakfast together?) "Sorry to disappoint." And he genuinely was.

Aziraphale put his hands in his pockets and shifted back onto his heels, looking up at Anthony. His tone was light, eyes lit in a playful bit of sparkle from a nearby streetlight. "It might be nice. No accusations of being a hitman this time, I hope?"

"Never been there. And will you be driving us?" He gave a pointed, questioning look at the motorcycle. "I don't have a car."