Crowley and Gideon
His speech was touched with a slight accent as well. His was quite obviously London, to any discerning ear. He could ahve dropped it, he could take on any accent he desired. It was just easy. And reminded him of Aziraphale, so he kept it.
"Crowley," he told her. "Anthony J." Which was not his true name, but the name he had given himself when he began to live among men in the modern age. He'd been known by many names previous. Crowley, he felt, suited him best.
"It would seem you have quite the appetite," he said, observing the spread of plates in front of her. He wasn't judging, merely commenting.