Aziraphale, meanwhile, had heard the Bentley pull out, and was waiting in a garden chair with a book out in front of Club 33 so he could intercept Crowley when he returned. He wasn't actually reading, however, but was trying to decide where this situation fit in the continuum of bizarre and difficult incidents that punctuated his long life. Somewhere well below the Apocalypse, the Deluge or the Crusades, he reckoned, but definitely a notch or two above Warlock's birthday party. How it stood in relation to being clawed up, knocked out and left to bleed to death at Sodom remained to be seen...