"Either one," she says idly, slipping the slim black rectangle of her phone from her pocket and setting it against the table with a soft click. Raleigh looks at the man obliquely, chary but calm and outwardly earnest. If Aziraphale is eager to inform her about the apparent dangers, there are plenty of advantages in listening. He seems well-meaning enough, and she is inclined to trust his disposition, at least as far as fair warning is concerned.

She tips her glass at an angle against the table, watching the pale liquid slosh faintly against the vitreous edges. One thumbnail bites into the table's surface, digging absently into the sun-warmed wood. "Who should I be looking out for?"