Crowley gave the mental equivalent of a shrug, resting his head on Zira's collarbone. "I suppose. I should go and start work on the building," The 'soon' was implied by the tone of the sentence; he wouldn't walk out on Aziraphale, that would be far too close to pouting. He didn't see how why he had to give up his resort, all because the goddess had thrown a fit. it was penance, of a sort, he knew. But what was he sorry for?
The temperature in the room rose a little, and he hissed something like a sigh, tightening his grip on Zira's waist.
"Take me to bed, Aziraphale," He needed to release some of the tension he felt, before the confusion drove him mad.