[ Aziraphale hesitates. It's the tell-tale hesitation of trying to figure out how to thread the needle he wants threaded. The space between very real, fluttery gratitude and abject embarrassment.

He already admitted that this helped, which was a relief in itself because he hadn't had much idea of what would. In the moment. It's just. ]

I'll, um. I'll remember that, yes. Word of honor. [ See. He will remember it. Because it's very nice, and because if he says differently, Crowley might think he doesn't want him here. Or might think that when he offered the other way around, it didn't count.

So complicated. ]

I don't plan on indulging in any repeat performances, of course. So, so no need to have an active concern about that. [ That's how feelings work. If you believe. ] But you're the only one I would call in any case.

[ The only mortifying ordeal that would not outright kill him, he's fairly sure. ]