"The party, or the part where you almost died?"

Crowley's defaulting to sarcasm as ever, though it's a gentle and good(ish)-natured kind, his voice still quiet like he's dealing with a fragile and intoxicated angel. He can still feel the heat in his cheeks as Aziraphale's fingers brush his neck while straightening his collar.

He's not about to hold Aziraphale to anything, either, but seeing as he was considerably less drunk - well. Even so. He's still the one who ended things with a serenade.

"How much do you remember?"