Once he's settled, Crowley goes still, relishing in the embrace. It's not as though they don't touch, but not like this. Not with Aziraphale's arms around him. It's warm and comfortable, and Crowley doesn't dare upset this rare moment when all is at ease.

"I wish I had ssseen it," he says at last, his forked tongue flicking out from under the collar of Aziraphale's coat when the demon hisses his response. "Musst have been a cute snake. Were you alright...?"

Because he knows how jarring changing forms can be.