At first, Pam doesn't notice her audience. This is good food and she is eating to enjoy it, not to meet anyone's standards. This is Pam time. This place is stressful enough. She deserves to take her little joys where she can find them.

After a moment or so, though, she feels Aziraphale's eyes on her and looks over. She grabs a napkin and wipes her face, her nose scrunching up with her indignant frown. She feels like she's back at the lunch table in high school.

"You got a problem, mister?"