[He knows, he knows. Crowley can taste the words on his tongue, asking Aziraphale if he thought God had planned all of it, them included. But the last thing he wants to do is admit that. It doesn't make God less of an asshole, in the end.]

Don't see anything unnecessary about it.

[Part of what he's angry about, with the photos so close by, is the memory of smug satisfaction on Gabriel's face as he ordered 'Aziraphale' to his death. He's angry about falling, about Heaven, about Armageddon, but none of that really compares to his fury at how the other angels treated Aziraphale.]

You can go, priest. I can't imagine you want to spend your Christmas day around a demon.