The "Oof" is substantially louder this time, as the sail drops and its full weight is transferred, joltingly, to Crowley's shoulder. The ratlines sway alarmingly, nearly knocking Crowley into the mast, and he reaches out again to steady himself whilst imagining quite fervently that the immense roll of sturdy cloth weighs very little at all.

A few seconds later:

"Got it."

Then there's a second thick rustle, much like the sound of the sail as it fell, and Crowley's wings re-appear, one to each side of the canvas along his back.