Rahab sits quietly on his shoulders, alert but calm, a draconic reflection of Lucifer himself; wary, and not necessarily at ease in these woods, but not afraid of them. He wouldn't even entirely recognize the feeling if it ever happened to occur to him.

"No," he says. "I'm an archangel, Aziraphale. There's nothing on this Earth or outside of it that I fear."

Save, perhaps, the Father, but fear and God-fearing are two different things.