12-03-2019, 11:39 AM
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Listen. Crowley is going to be brutally honest here. He doesn't care about Leroy -- he hadn't cared when the canine died. This wasn't because he was a heartless bastard or anything, but he'd hardly seen the canine*, and, well ... he hadn't really cared about much going on here in the beginning. A passing worry for Aurum, and that was all. Self-centeredness born from a lack of permanence.
*And for good reason,
It hadn't occurred to him that the canine could come back. Arrow apparently had, but Crowley had hoped that'd be all, because he's not sure how much he could take on that front. Apparently, this is simply ... not true, and it's just as jarring as the first time.
Crowley can't remember what Leroy looked like. He doesn't think it's the exact same, but, well -- to be entirely fair, if you came back from the dead you wouldn't precisely want to look the exact same, with the exact same weaknesses. As someone who discorporated frequently and was entirely unable to change his eyes, he can attest to this.
"Oh, shit," Crowley utters softly, and then promptly decides not to think about it. His head hurts, and he feels a little .. ungrounded as it. Better not to debate to himself on what the whole ... returning from the dead thing means for the afterlife, lest it turn into a fucking migraine. "Uh. The old proxy. He .. died," His gaze, his single fucking eye, flickers between the trio, uncertain. He hardly has a place here, greeting the dead he hardly knew, but, technically, neither does Piers, so he doesn't worry about it. Better not to be in the center of things, though, so the serval promptly steps back to seat himself next to Piers, equally nervous. His tail curls around himself. He's not .. particularly fond of this situation, or what the hell is going on, but he's .. dealing. It's fine. Just because Crowley doesn't .. get it, or like it, doesn't mean he should rain on people's parade**.
**Technically, as a demon, this was practically Crowley's purpose in life. He hasn't been all that demonic lately, though.
*And for good reason,
It hadn't occurred to him that the canine could come back. Arrow apparently had, but Crowley had hoped that'd be all, because he's not sure how much he could take on that front. Apparently, this is simply ... not true, and it's just as jarring as the first time.
Crowley can't remember what Leroy looked like. He doesn't think it's the exact same, but, well -- to be entirely fair, if you came back from the dead you wouldn't precisely want to look the exact same, with the exact same weaknesses. As someone who discorporated frequently and was entirely unable to change his eyes, he can attest to this.
"Oh, shit," Crowley utters softly, and then promptly decides not to think about it. His head hurts, and he feels a little .. ungrounded as it. Better not to debate to himself on what the whole ... returning from the dead thing means for the afterlife, lest it turn into a fucking migraine. "Uh. The old proxy. He .. died," His gaze, his single fucking eye, flickers between the trio, uncertain. He hardly has a place here, greeting the dead he hardly knew, but, technically, neither does Piers, so he doesn't worry about it. Better not to be in the center of things, though, so the serval promptly steps back to seat himself next to Piers, equally nervous. His tail curls around himself. He's not .. particularly fond of this situation, or what the hell is going on, but he's .. dealing. It's fine. Just because Crowley doesn't .. get it, or like it, doesn't mean he should rain on people's parade**.
**Technically, as a demon, this was practically Crowley's purpose in life. He hasn't been all that demonic lately, though.
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