[It's more about him, then, which he supposes is sort of fair, since he feels exactly the same about the concept of using Aziraphale to feed those damn things. He'd much rather terrify some stranger, and the only reason he hasn't is spite, not any sort of moral issue.

But it's a moral issue for Aziraphale, along with him being a stubborn bastard. Not to mention all those complicated feelings about God that he's sure this must be stirring up.

That doesn't stop Crowley stalking after him, leaning against the doorframe leading into the kitchen, trying to look casual about it, for whatever the effort is worth.]

Oh, please, you're already cross with me.

[It almost seems like an understatement, honestly, although a better word might be upset, since he knows it's not entirely anger that's being directed his way.]

How much longer do you reckon we can keep this up? Can you even tell me how long it's already been? 'Cause I certainly can't.

[It can't have been that long, they'd have run out of food already if it was, but it feels like it's been weeks.]