There was only a momentary balk, when Crowley heard the crack of the leather, before he drifted gracefully to his knees, thankful for the reprieve. While he'd told Kakia he would be able to stand a party in a church, his bare feet touching the marble had a strange combination of earthly chill and otherworldly burn. He was glad for the barrier of leather, thin as it was, between him and the ground.
Feeling the familiar eyes on him, he was tempted to glance over, but didn't want to ruin the image, so he kept his head down, waiting for his 'master' or the hostess to address him.