"You go too fast for me, Crowley," Azeriphale whispered, and then, he was gone. He stepped out of the car and walked back to his bookshop alone. Crowley didn't move. He sat there with his mouth opening and closing, trying to think of something to say. To who? He doesn't really know. Satan? Maybe even God herself. Maybe he'd plead with her to bring back his angel. Maybe if he wasn't such a coward he'd get out of the car too, and follow Azeriphale, walk him home. He sat there, he didn't move, he didn't say anything. His hands were still gripping the steering wheel of his Bentley tightly, knuckles turning white. Staring straight ahead at the road, he fights with himself. He wants to move, do something. He commands his body to move, but nothing happens. Why isn't he moving? Move!
Nothing happened.
Crowley sat in his car.
Azeriphale kept walking.
Oops my hand slipped