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“Do you think they’ll be all right?”
Crawly follows Aziraphale’s gaze eastwards. Adam and Chava are no longer in view, but it’s obvious enough whom the angel is talking about.
Responding to Aziraphale’s worries is preferable to dwelling on his own, Crawly finds. “Probably,” he says, with as much conviction as possible. “Flaming sword will help, I imagine.”
“I hope so.” Aziraphale still looks concerned. “They’re so delicate. They were safe in the garden, but now…” He breaks off abruptly, perhaps realizing he’s coming dangerously close to expressing discontent with divine judgment.
Crawly shrugs. “They’ll be fine. That’s the point, no? Resilience. Testing, but not to destruction. Be a waste, creating them just for a lion’s snack.”
“True.” Aziraphale looks thoughtful. “Testing. Your temptation business was a kind of test, wasn’t it? Do you think—”
Crawly, not interested in contemplating the Ineffable Plan, interrupts. “Demon, right? Can’t do good. Like you said.”
Aziraphale opens his mouth, then closes it.
They’re quiet. Eventually, Aziraphale turns back to Crawly. “I daresay you were right.”
“Eh?”
“About resilience, that is.”
“Yeah?”
“They’ll probably be all right.”
The rain is letting up, but Aziraphale doesn’t lower his wing, so Crawly stays at his side.