It's good to hear, in more ways than one.

And as Aziraphael speaks, as he weaves together a tapestry of mundanities and trivialities and non-events, a gentle current of normalcy around the sounds of bubbling water and the muted chink of mugs on the sideboard, the silence from the living room seems somehow to - ease, a little. Not all the way, or even most of the way; Crowley certainly doesn't speak up to break it.

But it's just a little less uncomfortable, and that's a start.