"Oh, it's..." he glanced down at the timer. Three hours. Maybe next time he ought to miracle himself normal human stamina too. "... been a bit, yeah, but I'm okay, why? And yeah, I remember you..."

Michael tried to think of what he'd called him. "Something McSomething. Naggypants. It's okay. Aziraphael's wing is sore but he's on the road to kicking butt, and that's all that matters!"