Aziraphale would have missed (or perhaps deliberately ignored) the nuance of together, but Crowley was a man-shaped being of the world, and knew what was being asked. "We've been around since -- for a while," he said. "But it's not like that."

They sit in what humans call a 'deafening' silence, but Aziraphale and Crowley, they know what the silence is really doing. Every molecule in the air around them them is screaming, shivering, suspended in place by the sub-planar vibration given off by what they do.

Gorgeous painting.

You never forget how. (London, 1866/1899)

Aziraphale shook his head in vague puzzlement. “And the rest of them what?” “Let’s put it this way: do I look like a sodding fuck toy to you?”