Cayce handed Aziraphale the cup and poured herself one. "Not unless you count some entirely garden-variety drinking, and not even by the driver," she said wryly. "We ran into a few of the usual suspects. Logan and others. The T-Rex. Oh, and Aphrodite. She—" Cayce set her cup down with a clank. "Aphrodite," she repeated. "Oh crap..."