People We Pretend To Be | Crowley

[arcy]

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[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;"]Crowley .. well. Crowley's not the most honest guy around -- he doesn't lie about important things if he can help it, but the idea of being honest was ... nauseating, and he didn't even use his fucking stomach. Sure, maybe it'd be generally accepted if he just straight-out said that he couldn't fly, but then they'd know. They might even be considerate about it, and that was the last thing Crowley wanted, right after admitting weakness.
Hell didn't take well to demons that were weak.
Crowley may not have spent a lot of time in hell, but, well ... admittedly, he'd probably spent more amounts of time in contact with hell than with even Aziraphale, at least until lately*. He'd received orders fairly frequently, after all, and he only met up with Aziraphale a few times a decade, at first.
*up till before he came here, he means.
Now, Crowley might have considered shucking these ... quirks, if he thought this would be permanent. If he trusted enough to let himself. But, well -- he anticipated being dragged back to hell** soon enough, and didn't that twist his stomach.
He doesn't want to go back to hell.
**coming here was the most stupid and reckless thing he'd ever done -- they might let him resume being a field agent eventually, none of this shines well on him, exactly.
And, well -- admittedly Crowley's quirks do make for a curious case study. He never was good at lying, anyways. Still, he didn't expect that he'd stand out enough to make someone curious. So, maybe he's a little skeptical of why he's being approached. His ears turn, uneasy -- suspicious, but only by habit.
"Came to find me?" Dramatic, like a movie star -- that was precisely the vibe he was going for, at the risk of embarrassing himself if he was wrong. All sharp grin and sunglasses, Crowley whirls around, dramatic, to face and meet the hyena. She was a curious one -- Crowley wasn't entirely sure what to make of her, yet. "What's up?" Still a little dubious, but feeling better now that they were face to face, he shifts his weight and adjusts the way his wings rest, habitually. They just don't fit that well on a feline body, he'll admit it, but, hey, it's better than not having them.