(no subject)
The weather in London's been pretty kind, this spring. The last frost is some weeks behind them now (which is saying something, considering the wretched winter), so yeah, if you want to get technical about things, Crowley could have started Operation Re-Plant Fucking Everything some time ago. However, it's important to note that descriptors like 'kind' or 'mild' don't necessarily equate to 'dry' - and why, Crowley reasons, would he want to hang about in the half-hearted drizzle masquerading as April showers when he has a perfectly good alternative at the end of the universe?
If you catch the demon later in the evening, odds are he's sitting at a table with a glass of something cold and alcoholic for company, cleaning out the last specks of dirt from beneath his fingernails with a toothpick and a satisfied expression.
If you're looking for him earlier, though, your best bet is out in the grounds - or more precisely, the little plot he's rented out in one of the Milliways greenhouses. It might be a bit difficult to spot him, mind - most of the hardier shrubs, Crowley's left to their own devices out on Aziraphael's roof, so it's only a little plot, tucked away in the far corner. Plus, he's currently crouched down below eye-level, chin-deep in a small standing army of trellises - Devon Cream, honeysuckle, and the vibrant thatch of purple currently occupying his attention; Clematis caracasana.
Today, Crowley's checking up on his climbers.
[OOC: Sleeeeep. Slowtime currently in effect, chickadees, but post is open for new tags until it scrolls off the page.]
If you catch the demon later in the evening, odds are he's sitting at a table with a glass of something cold and alcoholic for company, cleaning out the last specks of dirt from beneath his fingernails with a toothpick and a satisfied expression.
If you're looking for him earlier, though, your best bet is out in the grounds - or more precisely, the little plot he's rented out in one of the Milliways greenhouses. It might be a bit difficult to spot him, mind - most of the hardier shrubs, Crowley's left to their own devices out on Aziraphael's roof, so it's only a little plot, tucked away in the far corner. Plus, he's currently crouched down below eye-level, chin-deep in a small standing army of trellises - Devon Cream, honeysuckle, and the vibrant thatch of purple currently occupying his attention; Clematis caracasana.
Today, Crowley's checking up on his climbers.
[OOC: Sleeeeep. Slowtime currently in effect, chickadees, but post is open for new tags until it scrolls off the page.]