Stretching the tie distractedly around his fingers, Crowley looks back down.

A braid would be best, all things considered.


He wouldn't be able to manage it, he thinks. And even if he could, if he were dextrous enough to manage the braid itself, he wouldn't be able to do it without tugging hard enough to wake Aziraphael up.

Eventually, Crowley smooths the angel's hair down into a low queue at the nape of his neck, and - with painstaking, painful slowness - ties it there.