[Despite his brief talk about leaving, he truly doesn't want to go, and he allows himself to be pulled up into Aziraphale's arms, guided into the embrace. His shoes and waistcoat and stupid belt buckle disappear as he goes, making it more comfortable to curl up, his head tucked into the crook of his neck.

Mon coeur isn't fair, when he feels this way.]

S'like what I said. About not being enough. [He doesn't shrug, but there's the sense of it in his voice, almost dismissive of his own words.] I'll not be enough, or I'll be too much, and you'll understand why She couldn't love me anymore.