Ar first, Crowley mostly drifted in and out of sleep, lulled by the ever present soothing hand along his scales and he awoke when he was little jostled by Aziraphale settling himself back onto the sofa and arranging the snake back onto his lap. It was only now that he registered the quiet, soothing piano music playing on the gramophone, Aziraphale must've only recently switched it on, either that or he really must've been out of it.

"Apologies," the angel said, "I went to fetch us some drinks."

"Dunno if sssnakes can drink alcohol, angel," he replied, sleepily.

"Then it's a jolly good thing I didn't bring you any," Aziraphale told him and balanced a dish next to his friend's head. "Hot cocoa with cream for me and warm milk for you," he explained.

"I'm not a cat," Crowley tried his best to roll his pupil-less eyes and flicked his tongue out at the milk, smelling it as only a snake could.

"It'll help you to keep warm."

Crowley glared at it as though cursing it into oblivion but he caved easily enough and, despite his assertion that he wasn't a cat, he began flicking his forked tongue into the bowl. After a moment, he lowered his head closer to the milk and soon, the dish was empty. Aziraphale made no comment as he set it aside and drank his own mug of cocoa whilst he read his book.