[Crowley hasn't forgotten the long years of ale being one of the only things available; an awful jug of it in Rome comes to mind, but he quickly took to other options once they became more available.]

You'd be surprised, even with the chance, people aren't always big on leaving something comfortable. Can't blame them, really, nothing wrong with having a home.

[For a long time, he didn't. For most of his life, really, as long as it's been. There might've been one or two places he settled for a few years, but it was never a home, never more than just somewhere he was staying for an assignment, to see something through to the end. It's only the past few centuries that he settled truly, and he's been in Mayfair ever since.

When the waiter comes, Crowley aims for peat and spice. It feels strange not to automatically order food, but that's only because he's not used to drinking with someone who isn't Aziraphale.]

If you're into music and this place is anything like home, you'll be in for a shock. Don't need to have a bard or a band around, to listen to music, it's all data, like the maps. I've got about two thousands songs on my one of these. [He taps the device, where he'd left it at a corner of the table.]