This whole business is a bit too much of a mess, he feels. Without using miracles to get past all of the little bothersome things, it was all entirely too cumbersome and stressful, something they really didn't need while they were already worried about being caught at any second. It made Aziraphale's mood fluctuate in... "interesting" manners, between staring out windows for far too long, as if expecting the forces of Heaven and/or Hell to simply saunter on and put an end to all of this, or the angel being far too confused over some modern details when it came to travelling - really, who deemed it necessary to make it all so complicated? -, or sometimes even sounding a bit too snappy or harsh, which he usually quickly apologized for.

But he thinks about Japan. He thinks about the sights and sounds, the lights, the food. His demonic friend by his side, both of them watching each other's back. It will be fine.

They will be fine. He has to believe that. There would have not been anywhere else to go if the world had ended, but there's nowhere else for them to go to hide in now. All they have is each other.

"I don't think they know what they are." The Angels, at least, he's quite sure don't know anything about human conventions, present or otherwise. "Will they do?"