Crowley didn't immediately respond, at least not verbally. And the longer the silence lingered, the more he saw the demon's emotions war for dominance on his face, the more concerned he became. Trying to look at him more closely through the lens of the ether did little good. Where normally he would have expected to see an aura that shone in varying amounts of irritation, mischief, boredom, contentment, anxiety, and something that a more instinctual part of him wanted to reach out to respond to but his conscious mind had trouble reconciling, now all he could sense was pain, like a deep void where his friend's vibrant spirit should be, that rippled around the edges the longer he looked with fear and expectation and bright but fragile flickers of happiness that burned with that same familiar-but-inexplicable emotion his mind told him he shouldn't name because it couldn't be what it appeared to be.
It wasn't something that the two of them did; looking at each other like that, the way they might have had they met in Heaven, before the war, when Angelkind was so much more open and joyful with their emotions with one another. But he had never seen Crowley in such a state, and even knowing on a conscious level that they were supposed to be free of their former superiors did little to quell the underlying instinctual paranoia. So he certainly hoped the demon would forgive him any impropriety in opening his senses to him like that, seeking out what could be seen of his true form where it sat compressed into a frail human body.
When an answer finally did come, from that small lizard and not from Crowley himself, speaking in a voice that did and did not sound like him at the same time, when he saw the way the small creature wiped at the tears that pooled in its eyes and Crowley's hand lifted to reach for him as if he were terrified he disappear, the weight of just how wrong things felt finally sank in. He only had to reach out his hand for a brief instant before Aziraphale took it in his own, sitting on the bench next to him, on their proper sides, before looking up and around them, reaching out just enough attention to feel for any celestial interference before dropping an invisible wall around them. The humans wouldn't see, the humans wouldn't even know they were there, and it left him free to manifest his wings in the Earthly realm, arching one around Crowley's back as he leaned in close, closer then would have been normal for the two of them to sit, the other wing shielding them from the front and giving them a small, secluded bubble of shelter as he rubbed that hand between both of his.
"Of course it's me, Crowley. I'm here, I haven't gone anywhere." He wanted to pull those sunglasses off so that he could look him properly in the eyes, but the tiny creature seemed quite settled there, and he didn't know why it was speaking for him, or therefore what he might do if Aziraphale tried to pull it away. The state of his clothes, the disarray and dirt and filth that seemed to cover him, not to mention the fact that he was wearing something so different from the style he'd become so fond of for the past couple of decades - longer then even his usually mercurial fashion tastes - made everything about him seem as if Aziraphale had left him asleep for years and not just a week.
The memory came to him, though, as he looked between the lizard and the human-shaped face in front of him, of what it had been like to inhabit a human's body after his own body had been discorporated, and though he wasn't sure exactly how it might have caused the demon to not only need a human vessel but also a tiny lizard through which to talk, he wondered if something similar might have happened to him, and if the process might have not gone so well for the human Crowley had attached himself to. It would certainly explain the body's haggard appearance and half-step-to-the-left clothing.
"Crowley...why are you in another body...? Can you tell me what happened after you went home to your flat last week?" His voice was soft when he asked it, nonjudgmental but obviously worried. Everything he knew about him said that possession wasn't really his cup of tea. Frankly, though, absolutely nothing about this was normal, so he wasn't sure exactly what he hoped for, besides enough information that he would finally know what to do to make it alright.
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It wasn't something that the two of them did; looking at each other like that, the way they might have had they met in Heaven, before the war, when Angelkind was so much more open and joyful with their emotions with one another. But he had never seen Crowley in such a state, and even knowing on a conscious level that they were supposed to be free of their former superiors did little to quell the underlying instinctual paranoia. So he certainly hoped the demon would forgive him any impropriety in opening his senses to him like that, seeking out what could be seen of his true form where it sat compressed into a frail human body.
When an answer finally did come, from that small lizard and not from Crowley himself, speaking in a voice that did and did not sound like him at the same time, when he saw the way the small creature wiped at the tears that pooled in its eyes and Crowley's hand lifted to reach for him as if he were terrified he disappear, the weight of just how wrong things felt finally sank in. He only had to reach out his hand for a brief instant before Aziraphale took it in his own, sitting on the bench next to him, on their proper sides, before looking up and around them, reaching out just enough attention to feel for any celestial interference before dropping an invisible wall around them. The humans wouldn't see, the humans wouldn't even know they were there, and it left him free to manifest his wings in the Earthly realm, arching one around Crowley's back as he leaned in close, closer then would have been normal for the two of them to sit, the other wing shielding them from the front and giving them a small, secluded bubble of shelter as he rubbed that hand between both of his.
"Of course it's me, Crowley. I'm here, I haven't gone anywhere." He wanted to pull those sunglasses off so that he could look him properly in the eyes, but the tiny creature seemed quite settled there, and he didn't know why it was speaking for him, or therefore what he might do if Aziraphale tried to pull it away. The state of his clothes, the disarray and dirt and filth that seemed to cover him, not to mention the fact that he was wearing something so different from the style he'd become so fond of for the past couple of decades - longer then even his usually mercurial fashion tastes - made everything about him seem as if Aziraphale had left him asleep for years and not just a week.
The memory came to him, though, as he looked between the lizard and the human-shaped face in front of him, of what it had been like to inhabit a human's body after his own body had been discorporated, and though he wasn't sure exactly how it might have caused the demon to not only need a human vessel but also a tiny lizard through which to talk, he wondered if something similar might have happened to him, and if the process might have not gone so well for the human Crowley had attached himself to. It would certainly explain the body's haggard appearance and half-step-to-the-left clothing.
"Crowley...why are you in another body...? Can you tell me what happened after you went home to your flat last week?" His voice was soft when he asked it, nonjudgmental but obviously worried. Everything he knew about him said that possession wasn't really his cup of tea. Frankly, though, absolutely nothing about this was normal, so he wasn't sure exactly what he hoped for, besides enough information that he would finally know what to do to make it alright.