Aziraphale does and manages to avoid the goop, thank heaven. Though his wings are probably in a state from having been knocked to the ground. He gets to his feet, brushing off his trousers and straightening his vest.

"Thank you." And then he looks at the snake, twitching on the ground in its death throes. And feels a wave of unangel like sympathy for it as well as some hidden fear growing like ice just under his rib cage.

"Oh...the poor thing. I hope it died quickly..." Why did it have to be a snake? "I've always thought snakes were the most fascinating creatures..."