Azrael didn't need to eat. He didn't need to drink, didn't need to sleep. But he chose to do those things sometimes because he had grown so close to humanity over those thousands of years in exile. But at the same time he had always managed to maintain a distance too. He didn't want to make the same mistake and his Grigori siblings had all those years ago.
Feeling nostalgic, Azrael ordered barley soup with bread, and a slice of honey cake with cream for after, should he even be around that long. Both dishes were from different points in his life but they served a symbolic purpose to him. He also made sure the wine was ordered and when the waiter was gone, relaxed a little again.
"I'd like to know what you plan to use it for". Straight to the point. As far as Azrael was concerned he was the protector and guide to the newly departed and shepherd to those who had lost their way and become tied to the physical world. If there were any leftover traces of the departed who had become tied to the world, he wanted to make sure it wasn't used for any terrible purpose. It was important to him.
With his change in tone, his posture hardened and he looked more serious. There was a slight amount of tension showing in the way his fingers bent, resting on the table, nails digging in ever so slightly.