Crowley had never actually watched someone be pulled in by the City before. He'd been in the library, doing what he tended to do when he got maudlin -looking for Aziraphale, when he saw the girl appear. The angel had to be in the City somewhere. Just had to be. Crowley had spent so much time with Aziraphale that it was hard to come up with things to do that didn't involve him in some way. It was hard to imagine that he was on his own here.
But the girl. She'd come in in such a similar way to himself that he couldn't help but smile lightly. Common ground. He'd woken, granted in his flat which the City had been courteous enough to supply him with, and was startled to find that it was not London. At least he was able to keep his flat, his plants and his Bentley. Didn't look like the girl had anything but the clothes on her back. Though that could change.
The city did what it wanted with little mind to the individual. Or at least with substantially less than should be put in place when depositing individuals in its hold from their own realities. If it had given a thought to him, it would have brought Aziraphale there too.
He wasn't co-dependent, so why was he so insistent that the angel had to be anywhere at all? Mostly because it would have been nice to have a friend of sorts.
There he went getting all maudlin again. What in hell was wrong with him?
Back to the girl. She was up and moving now and if the look on her face was any indication, she was petrified. Understandable. "Miss," he called, voice it's normal low and steady self, "are you alright?" Wait. Why did he care? Curse his affection for humans. He wasn't suppose to care. He was a demon.
This City was softening him more than he already was. Not good.