Sunshine stiffens, but doesn't move. All right, maybe she deserved that - it's too near an echo of the last words she threw at him for her to miss the parallel. But she'd been speaking rhetorically, and he's just being an asshole. Well, fuck him. She's not leaving. That's his modus operandi, not hers.

"I'm here," she says stiffly, because she really doesn't want to start screaming in front of Aziraphale, "because you managed to get yourself into such a frigging critical state that a magical talking carthaginian cat-thing showed up in my apartment and ordered me to fucking fix you." She glares at him for a few moments, letting him just soak in what she's said. Then, her tone gentler than she wants it to be, she asks, "So, what was it? Did the wards stop working? Did you tangle with some weird Other in an alley or something?"