For someone who calls himself a god of thunder, among other things, Thor has never been terribly well-versed in the minutiae of all the different categories of deities and adjacents, other than to know now that, apparently, a Titan is not the same as a god when it comes to beings like Prometheus. (The Mad Titan, of course, was neither, a Titan in name only.) Pantheon schmantheon, a spirit is a spirit, but if Aziraphale is going to insist on terminology then all Thor can do is roll with it. They're not hostile, or cunning trickster types with an eye for exploiting his inebriation, and that's all that really matters in the end.

He makes an adoring sound in his throat at the description of Crowley's true form, able to picture it all the more easily because of the demon's usual color scheme. Chosen because of his scale coloration? Who knows. Doesn't matter. He sounds gorgeous. "Oh, what a beauty. My brother knows the same trick, the other way around. He likes a more emerald green sort of look, sleek and shiny. First shape he ever learned to take. Well, on purpose, I think."

Kicked out of paradise for knowing the difference between wrong and right? That's so bizarre that Thor can hardly get his head around it. What kind of god wouldn't want their people to know morality? Hel, Thor himself was banished from Asgard for being arrogant enough to think that nothing he did was wrong, and wasn't allowed back in until he learned what it meant to be Worthy. The opposite, though? Insanity. He shakes his head and immediately regrets it since the world is now spinning a little. "Why even have a tree like that if you're not supposed to eat the fruit?"