Crowley snorts. "Glum is putting it mildly," he says fervently before taking a long drink. "I was bloody hating everything that day, above and below and all around me, all of it."

Himself included, truthfully, for a while. The decade or so after the death of Christ had been hard. The conversation he'd had with Jesus had been deeply uncomfortable in many, many ways, that he's never told even the angel about. Strange, astonishing person, Jesus. Crowley wonders sometimes how he and Adam would have gotten along. Either Adam, really.

"Fortunately you showed up to improve things." Another affectionate smile. Lot of those happening today, and Crowley's not even sorry about it. "Brighten them, even."