"What I've done?" Gabriel started laughing, a horrible laugh ringing with such brittle and false brightness that it was still far too high-pitched to be anything but verging on hysteria. "What makes you think I did anything at all?"

No soul. No face. No expressions. All he had to go on was the sound of Aziraphale's voice, and even then the archangel's head pounded with such adrenaline that he didn't have a hope of divining the nuances no matter how capable he ought to have been at it, given his old skillset.