There's a momentary pause as Aziraphale glances over at him, seeming to consider the prospect of his ideas.

"If they're doing battle for the spotlight, I hardly doubt they'd have enough cast to perform," he remarks simply as if that were the only issue with the whole concept of underground theatre tropes. For as nonsensical as it was, he does think that Crowley isn't entirely wrong. Humans were always a stubborn lot, intent on doing all sorts of things that they have been barred from by one force or another, and there was undoubtedly a group somewhere still performing.

Perhaps not exactly here in the city, but somewhere. Definitely somewhere.

The more they talk about this, the more Aziraphale finds he's relentlessly curious to know. There's just not much he can do this particular evening.

"How did you find the restaurant?" he asks, changing the subject.