Aziraphale sighed. What tremendous stealth, angel. Pulling himself to his feet, he smoothed down the front of his jacket, cheeks blazing with embarrassment and indignity.

"Have a nice discussion?" he snapped back before he could help himself, then cleared his throat and bent down to retrieve his glasses. He put them in his front pocket, for something to do. He did not appreciate the sudden scrutiny, although turnabout was fair play, he supposed,and he had been watching this . . . individual without permission.

He was not very ashamed of himself, he realized to some dismay.