"Some of them might be more fun if they were high."

Crowley shuffles in the blanket lair, coaxing Aziraphale into wrapping his arms about him again instead of flapping one hand around. None of that, they're meant to be staying warm. No opening up the blankets.

"Anyway, did think it sounded a bit culty. Any time someone talks about who they're related to it makes me think of bloodline nonsense. You know, ancient bloodline, descended of some random person."

Plenty of cults dedicated to weird leaders who are convinced they're the scion of some ancient and powerful line that traces itself back to something nonsensical. Humans really are very odd like that.