[Crowley sets about fussing with the tea, which is only really fussing because Aziraphale has drilled it into him that it needs to be prepared properly.]

Six thousand years, give or take. We were both there when Earth was shiny and new, I sort of ruined his day, but humans probably wouldn't have sorted out wine or cake otherwise, so he's forgiven me for it.

[The idea of Aziraphale living in Heaven rather than on Earth is a) bad and b) really bad.]