Aziraphale's eyebrow arched as Crowley sat in the chair, only after having received permission to do so. So often, the demon would sprawl himself across the nearest surface, invited or otherwise. And yet even when sitting right now, his posture was straighter, his gaze more attentive. Obedient, even.

Aziraphale and Crowley have an arrangement. One could say it's mutually satisfying.