Aziraphale doesn't miss Wooster's hint of relief, though it quickly shifts to sympathy, which he appreciates. What he does not appreciate is the nickname. What is it with humans and their absolute refusal to pronounce the full thing. His expression twists slightly in displeasure at the childish shorthand, followed up by 'old prune', dear lord. He wishes Crowley were here, no, strike that, he'd only laugh in the poor fellow's face, and then he'd probably start calling him Azi all the time. He still hasn't figured out how to correct people when they do this, so he lets it sit rather awkwardly.

And then that suggestion. Another thing he should be able to do, and can't. Wooster obviously does mean well, but he keeps tripping over these unfortunate remarks. Aziraphale sighs woefully.

"I've tried," he says. "I should be able to, but..." He makes a weary gesture, signifying what's already been talked about, his unhappy de-powering. "I'm afraid I'm not much help to you, myself, anyone." This comes out a little more piteous than he intends, and after saying it his expression contorts again, this time looking like he's eaten something sour.

"There is someone I'd like to find, if we can," he says after a moment. "A little girl, about yea high, fair hair - her name is Melanie, she's... rather in my care." He expects Melanie would be able to free herself, but he doesn't like the idea of her wandering through this mess all alone.