Crowley’s yellowish eyes narrowed as he saw the child. The pale child, who was tucked into a neat little burrito of blankets on the couch. It wasn’t that he was against the child, (so long as they weren't annoying), he was just confused.

“Aziraphale,” he called, entering the kitchen where he knew Aziraphale to be, “...why is there a child on the sofa?”

Aziraphale turned around with a cuppa tea and a smile. “Well. I saw them outside all cold in the snow, so I've brought them in. Poor thing was shivering!"