Crowley scrubs out the wound, which has lost its rancid smell for the smell of his body wash and some water. It's hardly the best, but it's much better than before. He remembers the days where the best sort of cleanliness they got was mud and a bit of water to rinse it off with, so this is really a vast improvement. Many of the demons in hell still prescribe to that sort of cleaning schedule.

He gestures to the cabinet by Aziraphale. "There are bandages in there," he says. "We can wrap it, it'll heal up. Probably take a bit longer than a normal wound might because of----"

Because of the angelic blessing, really, but he doesn't know how far the curse would have spread without it. It blisters in the circle around where Aziraphale cut into him.

"But it'll heal."