The presence had led him out of London, into a small and quite lovely little town, all green and cozy and picturesque like a postcard. He hadn't caught the name of the place, but that didn't matter--he could tell it was well-loved. He hummed softly to himself, walking until he found the center of his subordinate's presence, and ducked into a little cafe.

"Just here to meet someone, don't mind me," he said brightly to the greeter, and she didn't.

He swept his eyes over the room once, saw the blond head among the tables, and though he wasn't actually running gave the impression of dashing forward gleefully.

"Aziraphale, darling!" he cried, throwing his slender arms around Aziraphale's shoulders.