He feels how tightly Crowley’s arm is wrapped around his shoulders. It’s grounding, a stark reminder of reality, but not necessarily in a bad manner. It keeps his thoughts from flying away too far - some of them, at least. But it also causes some others to swirl in his head, completely different in nature, perhaps still as difficult to find answers for, but...better. Far better.

He glances up at the demon, not quite facing him entirely, quiet as he listens to his response. He figures, perhaps, that that was a bit much. Quite necessary, he supposes, but for as much as The angel has always been quite sincere, such deeply personal confessions are very much not something he’s used to.

There’s that faint, tired smile again. He’s happy enough that he was able to get the words out, hopes that he’s correct in his assessment of the lightness in his body after he did so, although it’s hard to make the proper judgement just yet. There’s an ache in his chest, of a different kind. He feels rather embarrassed, really, having to bear his fears so openly.

“Of course. Wouldn’t expect anything less.” A pause, and he takes another deep breath. His body doesn’t ache as much anymore, neither do his lungs.