"Of course I would," Gabriel said promptly. "That's why you surprise me with your creative mold-breaking abilities." Aziraphale certainly wasn't wrong. True, Gabriel had thrown off some aspect of the trickstering to take on Lucifer, but not most of it by any means. Two thousand years was a long time to settle into habits.

That hadn't been the question Gabriel had been asking (off the cliff, away from Heaven, toward humanity), but it still answered one he'd been wondering. Scratch the afterlife idea, then. "No one shoved you out the door to any exclusive clubs?" he asked, caught between exasperation and humour, and then he waved his hand dismissively. "Oh, of course; you didn't dream about falling."