"Apparently," Aziraphale replies dryly, his concern unabated. Underneath all that fluster, he wants to be certain that he won't hurt Molly with his angelic grace. Molly's reply is reassuring, albeit a tad confusing. A cleric casting spells? He'll have to satisfy his curiosity once he's gotten Molly healed up.

"Jolly good... I had to ask, you are pinging as infernal to me, and one can't be too careful." He lifts his hand, giving Molly a vaguely reproachful look. "And no pranks, please? I already have one dramatic demon in my life."

If all goes to plan, a quick pass of Aziraphale's hand over Molly's chest will knit back together the damaged tissue, leaving it healed without any pain or even a scar, only the bloody hole in the jacket as remaining evidence of the attack.