It's all very impressive even if Crowley accomplishes nothing with his show. Or at least the angel thinks so.

"I'm very sorry about all this," he calls out apologetically as he allows himself to be ushered out. He finally manages to be a bit concerned about the room as they leave--spotting an overturned table, the empty cups and plates and...is that a bottle of ranch dressing?? Dear lord, why?--but not enough to stay and help clean up. He's an angel, after all, not a saint--and, besides, he's currently on the arm of a very dashing demon.

Then, with the same ease with which he suggested Lunch? as his own executioner was taken off to death in his stead, Aziraphale puts his tired head on Crowley shoulder, looks up innocently at him and suggests: "Back to mine?"