(Untitled)

[aj_crawley]

Crowley stole the Sunday papers, this morning, before Aziraphael could read them.

It's pretty great that he was in a position to, really, but not quite so wonderful is the reason he didHe's not reading them, exactly - they're open to the story that's of, ah, particular interest, but Crowley seems more interested in his coffee, and in sporadically

Comments

[petriedino]

Someone else is more interested in his coffee, too. He's never smelled anything like it before.

[aj_crawley]

What. The fuck.

[petriedino]

"Hello!" Petrie chirps, still eyeing the coffee.

[aj_crawley]

The tiny dinosaur is talking to him.

Crowley sort of... looks around a bit.

He's.

Not really sure what to do.

[petriedino]

"What is this?" Petrie wants to know, sidling closer to the cup and peering in, carefully.

[aj_crawley]

"...That's a good question," Crowley replies, out of the corner of his mouth.

(So nobody looks over and sees him talking to what may or may not just be his coffee cup.)

[petriedino]

Petrie looks up at him in innocent confusion.

"You do not know?"

[aj_crawley]

"Why is my life so weird?" Crowley moans quietly.

To... the... dinosaur:

"It's coffee."

[petriedino]

"Coffee", he repeats, careful with the unfamiliar word. "And... it is to drink?"

Consider your answer well, Crowley. Unless you want a caffeinated tiny dinosaur on your hands.

[aj_crawley]

"By me," Crowley answers reflexively, tugging the cup a little towards himself.

Crowley does not share his coffee.

Even with hallucinations.

[petriedino]

"Oh." He sounds disappointed. "All right. Are you a human-pilot?"

[aj_crawley]

"N- a what?"

[petriedino]

"A human-pilot", he repeats patiently. "Like Wash."

[aj_crawley]

"Oh. Uh, no," he says. "I'm not a pilot. Or a human."

[petriedino]

That gets a suspicious look.

"You look like one."

[aj_crawley]

"Well," he replies, "I'm not. I'm a demon."

He is also arguing with a tiny dinosaur, Crowley's brain insists on reminding him. A tiny, talking dinosaur.