Crowley's tenseness had little to do with Gabriel other than him being a reminder of his species. The demon was, in fact, quite grateful for the Messenger's assistance, though he wasn't sure how he'd manage to say so. He was mostly furious at Aziraphale. And for the loss of his beautifully kept feathers.

"Don't waste your energy. They don't grow in properly if they're forced," he grumbled. "I'll just have to wait." With a mournful look at the bedraggled things, Crowley prepared to put them away, ignoring the faint stabs of broken quills into his exposed skin.