She sort of doesn't wish, to be honest, and for a minute or so she just sips her (admittedly delicious) tea and enjoys the sunlight. And, okay, she might also be examining Aziraphale from over the edge of her cup. Now that he's reined in his wings and put the sword away, leaving his shadows as the only screamingly non-human thing about him, some of her awe is starting to fade a little, and some of his condescension is starting to feel less like precisely what she deserves for being a useless knuckle-dragging human and more like… can angels be dickish? She half-expects him to sense that thought and get right down to smiting her, but he doesn't.

Well, hell, maybe anything's possible.

"I'm a magic handler," she says at length. "So yes, you could say it's supernatural." There, that's his question answered.