"Of course you were," Oraxael said with an easy smile, as he extended his hand in greeting, "Ever the slave to duty, my dear friend Azriel."<br/><br/>Oraxael shook the angel's hand warmly, then gestured to a chair at the table as he took his own.  The waiter, seeing that his guest had arrived, quickly came over with a pot of hot tea, a small pitcher of cream, a bowl of sugar, and two cups and saucers.  Oraxael bowed his head slightly in gratitude, and began to fix his own tea.<br/><br/>"I hope you don't mind that I ordered a pot to get us started," he spoke as he stirred his tea, "I assumed your tardiness, and figured this would save a little time."<br/><br/>Oraxael raised his cup and saucer to his nose, and inhaled deeply, enjoying the fragrance of his tea before taking a tentative sip.<br/><br/>"So, tell me Azriel...have you tired yet of being a slave to these mortals?"