half of heaven * joiner

[arcy]

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[glow=#000,1,400]all you've ever been is a noose to hang on to — ｡+ﾟ.[/glow]

[div style="width: 480px; height: auto; text-align: justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 13px;"]It was probably for the best Torren had decided not to hold it against Crowley. Patience was a virtue but it was one Crowley, unfortunately, possessed. But Crowley, as it happened, was muddy, and hurt, and realizing this was not one of his smarter ideas. Crowley, as it happened, was more prone to dramatics than actually using his god-given brain. He scowls halfheartedly for a moment, but can't bring himself to continue to keep up the attitude.
Crowley watches with eyes half-lidded behind sunglasses as a fucking hellhound trudges after the wildcat. Okay. Whatever. Fuck. It's not like he seems hostile or anything -- quite the opposite, really. Crowley considers this new information for a moment, then promptly decides that it doesn't really matter.
"Ahh, yeah. Hi, thanks," Oh god. Oh fuck. He was actually going to socialize with these people. Nothing against them, Crowley just hasn't actually interacted with anybody in ages. And, as it happens, he'd entirely forgotten to introduce himself until Wormwood asked him. He can't believe the hellhound(wormwood?) called him buddy -- guess you really can't judge a book by its cover, huh? "Uh. Crowley. What do you mean by Chaser?" It would be reasonable to assume Crowley had done some thorough research before trudging into a swamp that Heaven and Hell both avoided. You would be incorrect.