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It’s Maggie and Nina who find him hunched over too many (and simultaneously not enough) drinks at their local pub. He isn’t stupid enough to think it would be Aziraphale, but he is enough of an idiot to hope.
“Is this where you’ve been hiding out then?” Nina asks, judgment evident.
“Mmph." Crowley looks up to tip the last of his drink back. "They kicked me out from- from- agh, it doesn't matter. Bentley tried to take me to the bookshop and I didn't want to-"
"Oh, you poor thing," Maggie titters sympathetically, patting him on the back. "How long have you been here?"
He glares at his watch and when it doesn't give him an answer because it's incapable of doing so, he shrugs. "Not long enough. Oi! Another round."
The bartender stares at them and Nina shakes her head. He goes back to cleaning the glasses. Crowley thinks of making a smudge non-wipeable but goes against it when he realises he might dirty every glass in there if he tried to miracle anything in this state.
After a moment of silence, Nina hauls him up by the shoulders. It's not because of her strength, he would later say, but because he let himself be picked up. Aziraphale would laugh and Crowley would grin in that self-satisfied way, savouring the laugh and…well, that's a story for another time.
"C'mon, when was the last time you digested something that wasn't alcoholic? Wait, do demons even need to eat?" she muses then thinks better of it. "Nah, doesn't matter, could do you some good to chew on something."
Crowley doesn't have the agency to protest as he's dragged out of the bar by the scruff of his collar. He glares at Maggie who follows behind but she only gives him a small smile in return, evidently with Nina.
Traitor, he thinks.
It's late enough for Nina's cafe to be closed, so it takes her a minute to undo all the locks. Crowley stands, well, slouches on his own. He could just book it for the Bentley, but he doesn't quite want to.
It’s been months since he’s been around someone who’s directly aware of his presence. Most of his time is spent slipping into bars unnoticed. Though he’s clearly lacking at the game of detection if two humans had spotted him. (What he doesn’t know is that someone had cancelled out his miracle. Someone who had been aware of every one of Crowley’s movements.)
The coffee shop finally lets them in and they're greeted by the sight of chairs resting upside down on tables, a cleared display case and a wiped-down specials board. Maggie automatically goes to put down three chairs around a table, while Nina disappears to the back, calling something out about leftover pastries.
He peers around and collapses onto a chair. He doesn’t quite sprawl on it, in fear of sliding off completely, but it's a near thing.
"We've been very worried about you," Maggie says, taking the seat beside him. "When Mr. Fell didn’t come in for his order, I went to deliver it and found Muriel instead.”
“Yeah, well, he’s occupied.”
“Occupied with what, exactly?” Nina comes out of the backroom with two plates, one filled with sandwiches and another with small Danish pastries. “He never seemed to leave the bookshop.”
When Crowley doesn't answer, Maggie sighs. "Did you…"
"No! Yes." He groans. He's not getting into how confessing worked out for him right now. "Can you just give me a sandwich so I can pretend to eat it and then fuck off?"
Nina pushes the plates towards him. "Pick your poison."
"More alcohol," he mutters but dutifully picks up one of the sandwiches. Food still isn't appealing to him but what else does he have to do?
He stays silent, occasionally chewing, while Maggie and Nina shoot each other looks when they think he isn't looking. He ignores them; humans always bring it up if it's important enough. They did it in the bookshop all those weeks ago.
"Well," Nina eventually starts, putting a stop to her and Maggie's silent conversation. "Breakups are…difficult. I would know."
Crowley splutters, cheeks surely aflame. "We weren't together."
"It was a near thing though, wasn't it?" Maggie says. "You loved each other very much."
Maybe he should've booked it to the Bentley when he could’ve. "Doesn't matter now. He's gone and I'm here."
"Was it-" Maggie struggles for the word and gestures at Nina.
"Mutual?"
Crowley stares at them pointedly. When he doesn’t say anything else, they go back to conversing silently. Which means it's high time for him to leave. Plants to tend to and all that. He says as much as he pushes his chair back, Maggie wincing at the loud scraping noise the action produces.
"Look, if you don't tell us what happened, we can't help you," Nina says. "You're clearly not doing well and you clearly don't have much in the way of…companionship, so-"
"I don't need your pity," Crowley snarls, venom pooling in his mouth, but going down his own throat, barely lacing his next words. "Or your help. Never asked for it, did I? Didn't work out last time."
It's a weak admonish, and he knows it. Maggie and Nina were at no fault, but he's been slowly sobering up and it's making him feel more unsteady by the second. He stalks – stumbles – out of the shop before they can say anything more.
The plate of pastries remains untouched.