"That was me spraying you with angel repellent. Weeellll, kinda," he amends, tipping his head from side to side. "Maybe more like me strapping an angelic cloaking device to your chest."

He prods Andrew in the ribs. (More gently, this time.)

"Enochian symbols. Pick the right ones, and no angel'll be able to find you. You're wearing a pretty sweet set of them now."