Watching Gabriel drink, Aziraphale decided he had the right idea. By the time the other man put his bottle down, Aziraphale's wine was mostly gone. It was a shame to waste such a good vintage - wherever it had come from, which was a serious question now that he thought of it - but he needed scotch, or something. Never mind that he wouldn't be able to sober up. He actually didn't care very much.

"Maybe we're meant to create the line for ourselves," he said quietly, unconsciously echoing Gabriel's thoughts. "I think I - I almost had, before. Or created the illusion of it, anyway."

The illusion, that was, of humanity. And remembering the Downs allowed him to slide away from Gabriel's slip, his mind drifting to his last moments of peace and familiar company.