Aziraphael knows that his humming is off-key, but Crowley seems comfortable enough with it. He tries to dismiss the worry that comes with seeing Crowley make that repeated motion against his stomach. It doesn't work very well.

"I could probably find some of that potato soup you liked when you were last here," he tells his tea, casually. "The menu here isn't exactly varied. When you're feeling up to it, of course."