Aziraphael makes noise enough himself, opening and closing the narrow little cupboards in search of the right tea. But the tiny emptinesses tug unhappily at him, one after the other, until he feels compelled to fill them up.

It's as he finds what he's looking for; "Yes," he murmurs, as though it could be partly to himself. He pulls down the box, turning it over in his hands. "It seems a long while since I've taken the time to appreciate this one."