"Okay." He nods and offers her the weakest of smiles. "Thank you. For everything."

It is really hard to say that and mean it, turns out. He ducks his head back down and feels the sides of his mug, waiting for it to cool a little, to finish steeping. He's not much of a tea drinker but he'll do whatever Greta recommends, at this point.

"I can... contact Aziraphale, about the hospital thing," he mumbles. "It was his idea, he can probably... do some magic angel thing to... set it up." Sure, yeah. Pray for your miracles to land your friend in a hospital bed. Not to, you know, heal them.