He was in the hands of the saints now. He trusted them with his life, however, and had even before they had saved it.
He had been about to say that they should prepare themselves in case Lucifer came to gloat quickly. He would know the other angels would be here an instant later, but he wouldn't put it past his brother to stop by just to say something before leaving.
Instead of speaking, however, he stopped and looked slightly distressed before pulling away from George and Patrick. He fell to his knees and vomited again. There was still more detritus working it's way out of his system.
Patrick had to look away or he was going to sympathy puke. "We have to get him to a hotel or something," he whispered to George. "He needs to rest. And...vomit, apparently."