Crowley looks at the man as though he has just told him that he ate dirt for breakfast, with just a touch of snobbery on the side.

"You're asking me the difference between a proper red and a table wine?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. "That's----this is why I should never have left London." He never got asked these sorts of questions in London. Of course, he also didn't go out with anyone who wasn't Aziraphale in London, and Aziraphale is just as much of a snob as he is when it comes to alcohol.

"Yes, well, the tequila is not for me, actually. The wine wasn't supposed to be, either. Wonder if I should've made that note during the request, might've got what I asked for."