Crowley scoffs lightly, bringing their own glass to their lips for a drink, unable to keep their eyes off of the angel either. It's possible that the angel has never seen Crowley quite this giddy, but the demon can't care, not when the evening has been so delightful.

After taking a drink, they lean into Aziraphale again, face nuzzling into his hair and breathing in his musk. Aziraphale has always smelled quite lovely, but there's just something incredibly intoxicating about him tonight that the demon can't get enough of.