"I'll drink to that," says Aziraphale, though maybe he shouldn't? Whatever, it's out now. He clinks his glass against Crowley's, though they're both empty. He fills them both, then downs his in one go. One more round ought to do it for this bottle.

"What do you suppose we're meant to do here?" he asks. It's a little early to get philosophical, but it's more of a practical matter.