[There's a slight, almost imperceptible sense of something in the Soldier relaxing at the sight of something other than a goddamned bowtie on Aziraphale's neck. There's still the faint resemblance to that fucking doctor, still some association, and Aziraphale will always be considered a technician for his work on their memories... but without that glaring, hideous, and unique connection, it's so much easier to ignore.

Not quite enough to make a hug sound fun, but it's Christmas, and Aziraphale wants it, and they can... manage. So after a hesitation, the Soldier nods once. Just make it quick, angel.]