Sunshine's lack of enthusiasm is met with an arched eyebrow and a little, finger-wiggling wave. Yeah, yeah, he knows, you don't like him, see how much he cares?

'Is that your magic?' Aziraphale had given him a fairly useless, handwaving response when Crowley had asked after her abilities, and he is actually quite curious. All this business with multiple universes, there's flavours of humanity here in Manhattan that neither he nor Aziraphale have ever encountered who can (presumably) do all sorts of things the humans they're more used do certainly couldn't. 'Very flash.'

And the wards are her work as well? Crowley nods up up at the window, which does not merely have a symbol painted onto it or anything so simple; the window itself has been altered, the ward worked into it in stained glass. He frowns in approval. 'I noticed; 's good work, actually. Thorough.'

He gives Aziraphale a flat look at his obstinately sunny question, because really, angel? 'Just running errands,' he says vaguely. 'You're looking much more in one piece than you were the other day.'