Aziraphale frowns. No, things have not always been this way. Crowley has usually had good hearing, and Aziraphale is very adamant that he has always been able to read, in more languages than anyone else currently alive besides perhaps Crowley, who wouldn't admit to it anyway.

He follows along, gently letting himself be guided. He is a little bit glad it's not the other way around; he's sure he would've guided Crowley into a pole by now.

He holds out a hand to stop Crowley and signs. "Someone is coming. Footsteps."