Their arms were still tangled together as they walked, making it exceptionally easy to feel when Crowley stiffened at the sight of two approaching figures down the path. He grunted something under his breath and automatically moved to stand in front of Aziraphale, which was all he needed to put the clues together.
“Other hunters?” Aziraphale asked. Crowley nodded.
Though the flat was stuffed to the brim with just as many books and knick knacks as his shop, it also appeared well lived in. The various cushions were squashed and sagged, and empty teacups littered the few glimpses of clear table tops. Still with his crucifix held out, Crowley leaned over to shine his light into one of the cups, still hopeful, against all odds, that he wouldn’t find the inevitable inside.
The sight of a dark red ring of blood staining the white china made his knuckles whiten around his cross.