Crowley realizes his mistake a moment too late, for all that Aziraphale hides his distress well. As soon as the pouch and its contents start burning he crawls back and latches his arms around the demon's waist. The stench is stronger even these few feet closer, almost enough to make him gag, but he doesn't care. Crowley squishes his nose against Aziraphale's back and watches over his shoulder, until all that remains are flecks of ash floating upwards. Only then does he sigh a little.

"M'sorry." The circle of his arms tightens. "Ordinary fire would probably have done for that, once it was cut. Just wasn't, wasn't thinking. Haven't been."

Crowley sighs again, nuzzling his nose just above the high collar of Aziraphale's shirt. It's mostly an attempt to comfort and say here, I'm here, that wasn't me, but it's also a little bit to hide from the hellfire reek lingering in the air. "M'sorry." A small kiss, just next to the ear. "Thank you."