Aziraphale barely paid attention to their path, hands fussing worriedly now that they're not holding onto anything, or submerged in strange naturally-occurring multicolored syrup.

He seems to only come to again when Crowley speaks, hesitating again to comment on the first part. Too many words and too many points try to break through first at once, and he doesn't manage to settle on any one of them before the demon's next suggestion, and he instead looks towards where he's pointing.

"That'll do." Looks secluded and private enough. It should do for a nice view.