"Oops," Crowley says cheerfully, puffing out clouds of laughter into the air as he watches Raguel try to save his marshmallow - with, it must be said, more than a little relief. He has a little margin for error, now - although on balance, he'd still prefer to put the moment of truth off as long as possible. Ideally until they can both use alcohol as an excuse for any gaffes.

With that thought in mind, Crowley reaches out for the flask - and abruptly recoils at the touch of the icy metal, dropping it hard enough to send it rolling out of their little island of light.

"Bollocks," he says mildly, hauling himself to his feet and loping after it into the dark.