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;"]In no way does Wormwood resemble one of Hell's usual hounds. There were, however, enough similarities that it had not helped with Crowley startling. See, Hell had a nasty habit of sacrificing lower ranked demons to feed the hounds. Crowley being a lower ranked demon, even if a well known one, tended to avoid them. This being said, Crowley, up until this point, had no reason to re-evaluate his automatic responses.
"Huh, interesting. Thanks," Crowley is not exactly in the habit of saying thanks. The opposite, in fact. Demons don't say thanks. But Crowley can guarantee that hell isn't going to be looking while he's here, so he allows his maw to quirk upwards as he says so.
For a moment, he contemplates what it'd like to climb the hierachy. He promptly grimaces to himself. Responsibilites? Yikes. That's exactly what Crowley was running away from.
"Interesting name -- not that i have any room to say so," There's a flash of sharp teeth as his grin widens. Moth. He won't presume to know the history behind that. "Uh," Crowley makes a rather strange noise as he attempts to, go -- satan -- somebody forbid, be polite. Aziraphale would be so proud. Which was precisely what made this encounter absolutely disgusting. But Crowley knew the importance of a first impression. This wasn't a memorable one, certainly, but at least they wouldn't hate his fucking guts. Crowley clears his throat. "Nnnice to meet you," He tries again, much more successfully this time.