Ellie's dance brought her swinging around to face Aziraphale again, and her breath caught in her throat at the sight of him, standing there so straight and tall with his radiant white wings out, golden hair and blue blue eyes, enveloped in holy light. The last time she'd seen an angel like that up close, arrayed in his full glory--

She turned away with swift tears stinging her eyes, only to see the young girl whose name she still didn't know, swaying and spinning in a carefree, sweetly naive dance that contrasted starkly with her own seductive rhythm. Though Ellie remembered that she had danced that way once, too, eons before. In a place filled with white light, before a shining throne.

Dizzy with the juxtaposition of such wrenching memories against the overtly pagan backdrop, she turned instinctively toward the only person present who might share them in some measure, wondering what Crowley made of it all.