"Well." Aziraphale shrugged. "Wisdom, perhaps?" He felt himself a fairly good judge of wisdom. He used to be able to sense it on people, just a bit, like a faint perfume. Not anymore, of course. "Open-mindedness?" he hazarded. "Or perseverance. All useful qualities in confusing situations, I would imagine."

Sighing, he glanced out of the crevice into the Cave. "What I wouldn't give for some good, honest weather right now," he muttered. "Snow. Rain. Hail, even, I'd take hail." It just didn't feel quite real as it was.