“Right. Good. Just... making sure,” Crowley says after a moment. He’s relieved, all things considered. That’s the closest he’s come in decades, at least, to thoroughly spilling his guts to the angel. The last time he made any kind of move in that direction, Aziraphale had bolted and he hadn’t seen him for several years after. This is progress, all things considered. Not only is he not running fast in the other direction, but he’s sticking around. They’re planning a holiday together.

“It’ll be fun, won’t it?” he offers, to lighten the tone. Ease the tension.