Aziraphale looked at Hope for a long moment. Talking to anyone seemed like a terrible idea at the moment. Tiring. Frustrating. He was already upset enough. But he wondered: if he didn't do the job that was assigned to him, would something else happen?

There was a moment of nausea, which passed relatively quickly. Blinking and straightening his vest, he nodded briefly. “Come with me,” he said, his tone as clipped and business-like as he could make it under the circumstances. Part of his mind was screaming at him about rudeness! but he couldn't be bothered. This wasn't his real job, anyway. That was waiting for him in the City.

He headed off down the stacks, not bothering to check if Hope was following.