09-07-2019, 03:04 PM
[align=center]
"OH FUCK --" Unsuspecting, Crowley yelps as Wormwood approaches him, turning wild but unseen eyes on the hellhound. It takes a moment for him to relax, and pointedly raises a paw to wipe away dust. Then remembers his paws are covered in filth and drops them. It's somewhat difficult to tell what expression, exactly, Crowley is wearing, but it looks almost ... embarrassed.
"I've been tending to plants for decades, I don't need help," Crowley sniffs primly, but, surprisingly, not unkindly. He ... well, he hasn't actually discussed plants with anyone before, and part of him is as eager to spill some information as Aziraphale is about his books. Which is a yikes from Crowley. "I uh, yeah, I guess so," Surprisingly passive, Crowley's ears turn uncomfortably as he settles from his arrogance. As already evidenced by his yowl, he hadn't expected to have to hold a conversation. "I forgot to bring along my garden when I came here, so I had to make some replacements today," Crowley elaborates, and heaves a soft sigh, forlorn. He'd been somewhat attached to those plants. It really was a shame.
Crowley probably wouldn't have appreciated being compared to a teacher or parent, so maybe it's fortunate that nobody had, thus far, given voice to these thoughts. Not that he'd do a lot -- Crowley is trying desperately to be at least vaguely likable, but that didn't mean he didn't have some bite to him still.
"I'm no expert on that front, but I'm fairly certain hearing Best of Queen all day, for months, is more of a punishment,"* He allows himself a hesitant joke, and refuses to elaborate. These unfortunate bastards clearly have something on their minds, they could use a little out of context humor. "But I'll consider it. I mean, I heard talking to plants helped, too," Crowley grins wickedly. And it sure had worked -- I mean, his focal plants always trembled whenever he walked into a room, but he'd be damned -- uh, blessed? if they hadn't been the lushest, greenest houseplants anyone had ever seen.
*Crowley still isn't quite sure why all of his music turns into Queen -- it's not even his favorite band or anything.
[glow=#000,1,400]all you've ever done is been 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;"]One might say Crowley's relationship with plants could be ... somewhat self-harming. Self projecting, maybe. It was all in the way he snapped and snarled at them with a little too much feeling. It was hard to confirm, though, considering that Crowley would refuse to budge on the matter."OH FUCK --" Unsuspecting, Crowley yelps as Wormwood approaches him, turning wild but unseen eyes on the hellhound. It takes a moment for him to relax, and pointedly raises a paw to wipe away dust. Then remembers his paws are covered in filth and drops them. It's somewhat difficult to tell what expression, exactly, Crowley is wearing, but it looks almost ... embarrassed.
"I've been tending to plants for decades, I don't need help," Crowley sniffs primly, but, surprisingly, not unkindly. He ... well, he hasn't actually discussed plants with anyone before, and part of him is as eager to spill some information as Aziraphale is about his books. Which is a yikes from Crowley. "I uh, yeah, I guess so," Surprisingly passive, Crowley's ears turn uncomfortably as he settles from his arrogance. As already evidenced by his yowl, he hadn't expected to have to hold a conversation. "I forgot to bring along my garden when I came here, so I had to make some replacements today," Crowley elaborates, and heaves a soft sigh, forlorn. He'd been somewhat attached to those plants. It really was a shame.
Crowley probably wouldn't have appreciated being compared to a teacher or parent, so maybe it's fortunate that nobody had, thus far, given voice to these thoughts. Not that he'd do a lot -- Crowley is trying desperately to be at least vaguely likable, but that didn't mean he didn't have some bite to him still.
"I'm no expert on that front, but I'm fairly certain hearing Best of Queen all day, for months, is more of a punishment,"* He allows himself a hesitant joke, and refuses to elaborate. These unfortunate bastards clearly have something on their minds, they could use a little out of context humor. "But I'll consider it. I mean, I heard talking to plants helped, too," Crowley grins wickedly. And it sure had worked -- I mean, his focal plants always trembled whenever he walked into a room, but he'd be damned -- uh, blessed? if they hadn't been the lushest, greenest houseplants anyone had ever seen.
*Crowley still isn't quite sure why all of his music turns into Queen -- it's not even his favorite band or anything.
[align=center]![[Image: ezgif-7-f3e523f182d0.gif]](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/463081660515221505/684393717838249984/ezgif-7-f3e523f182d0.gif)