The angel's hand on her shoulder is a surprise, but not an unwelcome one. Greta sets down the marker so she lift her hand, intending to give his a reassuring pat - she's fine, she doesn't need him troubling himself over her emotional state when she's trying to prove herself a worthy caretaker. Her gaze stays on Lilly as the girl fixes her with an intense, searching look.

And then - oh, god, she knows. It's not even a guess. Greta forgets to breathe for a moment, her hand slipping off of Aziraphale's as she stares at Lilly, her astonishment failing to mask her grief. No use in attempting to deny it. Nor can she confirm it without more tears, and she won't have that. This isn't about her own losses. This is about Lilly.

Lilly, who draws more comfort from the parallels than Greta had thought she might. The little hand on hers is too mature an offering from someone so young, and it jolts her lungs back to work. Greta pulls in a breath as the girl smiles at her and scoots a bit closer, a far more childish seal of approval. She's staying. She's choosing to stay.

Well. This has gone far better and far worse than Greta ever could have anticipated.

The temptation to just haul the child into her lap is almost overwhelming, but she knows better. Greta settles for resting her free hand atop Lilly's as she waits for her heart to stop hammering and the ache in her throat to ease. She sees Melanie get to her feet, though she can't bring herself to look at the child directly (goodness knows what she's making of all this). Once she trusts her voice, she turns to look up at Aziraphale.

"I think we'll be all right," she says quietly.