Aziraphale is frowning at the scorch marks on his clothing now, glaring at them and wanting them to go away. A perfectly good coat, ruined. (Not that he couldn't fix it with a small miracle, but that just seemed plain unethical to waste his talents on some of his own silly clothing.)

Glaring at nearly dead creatures up ahead, Eve appears in front of him and casts Muzzle Shot on one of them, taking it out. In the meantime, another one of them has a large icicle drop on it literally out of nowhere and on top of its head. Aziraphale gives a sigh of satisfaction.