[If they were... anyone other than who they are, Crowley might give in to his urge to touch Aziraphale's cheek, to offer him some kind of reassurance. Instead, he just squeezes his hand, expression softening.]

Look on the bright side, angel, you don't have to deliver a report to Gabriel for the foreseeable future, and I've been free of Hastur's ugly mug for almost a month now. S'been great.