Crowley: Angel! This is the Supreme Archangel of all Heaven, your former boss who tried very hard to cast you into hellfire and destroy you. He's not our friend.
Aziraphale: I don't think he really has any friends.
Aziraphale: Yes, exactly.
Crowley: What does your exactly mean, exactly? I feel like your exactly and my exactly are different exactlies.
Aziraphale: He doesn't have any friends so he needs us.
Crowley: What I need is for him is to be nowhere near me and the precious peaceful fragile existence that I have carved out for myself here.
Aziraphale: I thought we carved it out for ourselves.
Crowley: So did I!
Shax: Was it always this easy?
Shax: I keep planning complicated strategic strikes to spread misery and panic among the humans and just as I'm about to put one into motion, they come up with something themselves, which is so much worse than anything I could have thought of.
Crowley: Yeah, always this easy.
Aziraphale: You can't leave, Crowley. There isn't anywhere to go.
Crowley: It's a big universe. Even if this all ends up in a puddle of burning goo, we can go off together.
Aziraphale: Go off together? Listen to yourself.
Crowley: How long have we been friends? Six thousand years!
Aziraphale: Friends? We're not friends. We are an angel and a demon. We have nothing whatsoever in common. I don't even like you.
Crowley: You do.