That's enough of that.

With a careful sweep, Aziraphale brushes the nervous fingers off of his coat shoulder before he could be transformed into an angel-sized worry stone. Briefly, he wonders if Crowley even knows he's doing it or if it's an automatic tic. Perhaps he should ask him once this all settles down.

Then a thought occurs to him.

Aziraphale gestures back towards the various gravestones.

"Do you see my grave?"