Gabriella
The innocence radiating from her was almost sickening- and yet, he couldn't find it in himself to taint something quite so Pure. She vaguely reminded him of what he imagined his own daughter being like, later in life. Like his Angel, back when they first met.
He reached into his pocket and took out a handkerchief, moving to wipe gently at her dress, willing the stain away under his hand. "There, all better,"
At the question of how he knew Henry, Crowley made a little face, sighing. "I'm afraid I don't know him all that well. We had met, in passing," Of course, that had been centuries ago- he didn't blame Henry for not remembering. "I am here with the lady, you saw me arrive with? She is a friend of your Henry's,"