Aziraphale stands up abruptly, startled by the new addition to the room, and then, presently, startled by the thing itself. He glances between the box and the woman a few times, trying to ascertain without actually asking - is this it? A police call box, very familiar to him, rather a relic, in fact? This doesn't look any more plausible a ship than her humanoid form does.

"I - I don't understand," he blurts. He peers at her, trying to suss out any humor or amusement. "Are you having me on?"

Without waiting for an answer, he reaches out to touch it, and - oh. It's warm. That's unusual. Humming, too, he notices now, now that he's really paying attention. There is something odd about the box. He shifts his hand slowly to the door, testing its resistance. Feels like he could push it open. He looks at her curiously. He almost wants to ask permission, but, well, the permission sort of came with her dropping it in, didn't it? She seems to be waiting for him, after all.

He gives the door a little nudge, and it opens, and he staggers back, almost toppling clumsily into the fountain.

"Oh," he breathes. "I see."

The interior is - grand. Impossible. He skirts around a few times, checking the exterior, feeling a bit foolish, but no, it's quite - tangible. Small. Linear. But inside - talk about transcendence.

"I... I'd like to go in," he says sheepishly, "if I may."