The Infernal Serpent

Aziraphale looks up at the sound of his name and immediately straightens, his posture having gone a little slouchy in the comfortable chair he's been sitting in, nursing his glass of wine.

"Yes, that's me," he says politely. He recognizes the other being as a fallen angel, although one he hasn't met yet. He's fairly certain he wouldn't have missed those bat wings. "To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?"