His early (early) mornings are no longer spent in the Library of Ash and Fire, furiously trying to learn unethical and unwise summoning techniques... So while Crowley sleeps away the night, today Aziraphale finds himself outside in the chilly morning air, returning from the temples. The visit had confirmed his suspicion: Eleven is no longer here.

He spots the girl with her makeshift sword and frowns, already starting to shed his own winter coat to offer in concern as he makes his way over. This was not the kind of environment one needed to be out here, sweating and freezing their way to knightly heroics. Human youth have always been so...so...foolishly unaware of their own mortal fragility.

"Young lady, you're going to catch your death out here."