"Can't say that I have. Crashed briefly in Edinburgh with a friend, but as far as England itself goes, mostly just passing through anything terribly northern." Was it so obvious he was a Londoner? Should he be embarrassed?

"Road-trips do sound like fun," he said earnestly and offhandedly, the way in another lifetime one might comment that they like pears. He was listening. Honestly he was. And he couldn't decide what to make of that look Anthony was giving him, like he blamed Aziraphale for something.

"I'm sorry. It's been that kind of week for me as well. Strangely candid. Lots of things I have no right telling anyone. But I appreciate your openness. And...I understand, for what it's worth, about expectations, not meeting them. I mean, I was never going to be the man my grandfather wanted me to be..." He trailed off with a self-deprecating laugh. "I'm sure you can imagine: old-fashioned admiral with a gay grandson...not going to go over well. I--"

Aziraphale took a deep breath and caught himself. "Oh, look at me, derailing the conversation, making things incredibly awkward. I'm sorry. You invited me out and here I am making a mess of this. At this rate, you're never going to want to talk to me again."