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;"]Well, Crowley wouldn't have faulted her for that, if he were privy to her mindset. Crowley wasn't much of a planner either -- get a loose idea, and then go for it. More wriggle room, more room for dramatics. Just how Crowley liked it.
The real issue with her plan, though, was that not only was his guard up, but Crowley didn't spill much personal information to begin with. By this point, keeping secrets was second nature, when interacting with the general populace.
*Not actually, but without hurting intent at least
"Yeah, I can see that," Crowley admits. His tone was still light, but, well, sensitivity wasn't in Crowley's particular skillset. At this point, if he implied he could imagine a near-stranger not being a planner, so be it.
"How's it been for you so far?" By no means does Crowley care**, but it seems his guard is working in Snarl's favor, this time. Silence won't do. Less tells, more time spent worrying about her intentions and when it'll happen. "I mean, this is a fuckin weird place, even for me. Can't imagine how it is for you," Six millennium of experience with the world, and Crowley is repeatedly getting thrown for a loop. He'll miss it when he's dragged, kicking and screaming, back to hell. Where else can you see this sort of stuff? The general lack of hell plaguing his fucking radios was just a bonus at this point.
**Debatable.