The cold of the spots between cars makes Crowley cling tighter somehow to the angel's arm, and despite their moment in that spot before entering the standard coach, Crowley's closeness remains.

"I think that's where they keep all the good wine." Crowley notes, remembering the spider from earlier. "Certainly a bottle won't be missed. If the party's any indication there aren't many on this train that drink."

It doesn't take long to cross a train car when moving quickly through it, and Crowley is nowhere near stumbling drunk yet, so they're to the next door before they know it.