Raguel is walking through the bar in a kind of numb haze on the slow trek from the lake to the front door. There's no telling how long he's been outside, but he looks even more disheveled than usual. He notices Aziraphael only because of the energy he's exerting in order to keep everyone away.
He hesitates as he passes the table, but as much as he doesn't want to intrude, he's even more wary of returning to Los Angeles in this state. He shuffles over and leans in as quietly as he can.
"Is it - do you mind if I just sit here for a couple minutes?"
"Not at all."
The answer's reassuringly swift in coming; Aziraphael even manages to garner a small smile.
"You're looking... somewhat windswept?"
Politely inquiring voice, but his eyes are concerned.
"Oh." He looks down at his rumpled clothes and makes some ineffective attempts to straighten himself out as he sits. The edge of a twisted collar still pokes stubbornly out from the top of his coat, and the hand he scrubs through his hair is only successful in that it makes it all stand out a little more forcefully.
"Yeah. Been outside, looking at the lake." He leans back in his seat with a tired sigh, eyes nearly closing before he seems to realize that further explanation might be required.
"And, you know. Walking."
Aziraphael rolls his eyes and reaches over to straighten Raguel's collar.
"Any particular reason for this introspection? At least, I assume it was some sort of introspection, and not merely a tragic mourning of... oh, I don't know. Cricket scores, or some such."
He blinks down at Aziraphael's fingers but doesn't otherwise react.
"No, nothing like that. Actually, I met a friend of yours, I think. He was either an extremely energetic young kid or a muscle man in a cape. Either of those ring a bell?"
Aziraphael looks very shifty.
"That bar looked fine from the outside."
Raguel seems to wake up a little and focus on Aziraphael for the first time.
"Well, it was in this bar as far as I-- uh."
If you look carefully you can see a crack of amusement behind the grim exterior.
"Actually, I really don't need to know the rest of this story."
"I think you're right, you know."
He thinks through the excitable people of his acquaintance, and ventures a guess.
"Was it that Billy chap?"
"Billy. Yeah, that was it. One of his names, anyway."
He thinks the other was something along the lines of Captain, which is plenty, thanks.
"You gave him a hand, he said, after he was, um. Injured."
"It felt... well. No business in the bar, but it felt like more of a duty than usual."
He looks down at his tea, and smiles faintly.
"Couldn't have anyone besmirching your good name without doing something about it, after all."
He smiles slightly.
"It was good of you to do it. I doubt I could have, myself, even if I'd been around. Never was very well practiced at that kind of thing."
He looks up from his hands, which are scratching at the tabletop.
"So I guess he told you who hurt him?"
"A being that isn't you."
He nods, but it's slow and short-lived.
"He just used to be me."
"No. Not, wasn't, never will be."
His voice is firm.
"I'm not actually sure that I can avoid it."