[oh lovely aftermath]
[Kratos sits on a bench on the edge of a park-y sort of area, hands wrapped firmly around his sword. He's back! Sort of. Er. Well, he's still wearing the remains of that awful suit Aziraphale should never ever ever be allowed to dress himself a la trousers, but his white dress shirt is a little bit unbuttoned and the scarf and overcoat are nowhere to be seen. The glasses, however, are smashed beneath the angel's foot. He rubs at his temple.]
... I dreamt I was a moron.
... I dreamt I was a moron.