Aziraphale sometimes wondered at the fact that his questioning had not been a more conscious process. Perhaps it was due to a general passivity, or to fear, or simply to a lack of observation - but he had questioned more or less without realizing it over years and years, and only truly discovered how distant his views were from Heaven's on that day when he'd phoned up the Host and discovered that the Apocalypse was to progress as planned, no matter what.

He didn't really have a good response. He looked at Balthazar, though, and nodded slightly before letting his head fall back against the stone. That, at least, made sense, the tremendous discomfort and shock of realizing that you and your fellow creations, your brothers, were on entirely different planes of understanding.

"Hard to know what to do, really," he mused. "After all that time."