His touch is gentle, in the same way it was with Crowley; not rough, but firm, not to be refused or ignored. He moves his hand to the other side of Aziraphale's face, tipping it the other way, crooks the index and middle under his chin and lifts it slightly. Like Aziraphale is his to move as he pleases.

"Was the guardian."

The tense of that statement hasn't gotten past him.

"Sounds like a bit of a demotion, doesn't it? Going from Guardian of the Eastern Gate to watching over a little section of the Earth."