Crowley hadn't been too worried about leaving Henry in his room that morning, after he'd left. After all, he could just leave the door cracked a little...It seemed a bit selfish, but he had a humongous headache of his own to deal with and it had been a completely different experience walking down to his room, experiencing his first ever hang-over. There was a bit of getting sick when he finally got there too, which he had been expecting, but afterwards the castle was kind of enough to leave him pills. There was even an extra set. For another night, just in case? No.
"Henry." the demon muttered, and rinsed the toothpaste out of his mouth with a large cup of water.
It was slow going at first, mostly because he was waiting for the aspirin, or whatever the hell the pills had been, to take effect. Once he got to the outside of room 1420, however, he was in much better spirits. He wasn't thinking about anything in particular, and certainly not about the last time he'd been there, which was probably for the best. At least at the time.
"Come on, Henry, rise and shine. Open the door."
He knocked, and continued on talking to the man on the other side.
"You're going to start worrying people Henry, so come on out."
Then he heard the muffled 'THUMP' that indicated something man-sized, had fallen down a few feet and off of the floor. It was the kind of 'THUMP' that probably meant that Henry had fallen out of bed.
"Oh, for the love of..."
If he was falling out of his own bed, there was no way he'd be unable to open the door. Hadn't he left this cracked? Damn.
Crowley tested the handle one more time, and tried pressing against the door. Sort of a trial. He pulled himself back a foot or so and rammed his shoulder into it once. It had felt like it had moved...And he really didn't want to have to resort to the window...Again then. The demon pulled back a little further the second time and made to ram his shoulder against the door again, when it flew open and sent him sprawling into the room, onto the floor.
The first slam on the door sent a shock of pain through Henry's head and coursing down the rest of his body. To the overly sensitive man it seemed as though the room was trying to collapse around him, the noise was so loud. As a reaction he curled himself tightly into a ball in the blankets on the floor.
And then he heard a second, softer thump. Sort of like the very first one, the one where he'd fallen out of bed. Only not so...painful.
A head poked out of the blankets, wild brunette hair sticking out every which way, and a pair of squinting, bloodshot green eyes gazed vaguely toward the door. From his vantage point to the side of the bed he couldn't see Crowley, who was currently sprawled in the entryway. What in the world had that been? And why was the door hanging open like that?
Oh who cared? The light was making his eyes water and the pain was getting worse the longer he stayed out in the open. The blanket flew up over his head again and the cocooned man lay back down against the floor.
The castle's 'assistance' had been a complete surprise and, for a moment there, Crowley simply stayed where he had fallen on the floor. He picked himself up only after he was sure that there would be no more unexpected help on Paradisa's end. Brushing himself off a bit, the demon eyed the area next to Henry's bed. This was turning into an amusing trip.
"Get up, Henry. Rise and shine. Or, better yet, rise, take some medicine, shower, change, and -then- shine."
Crowley made his way closer to the lump of sheets as he spoke and at the last mention of 'shine', prodded said lump with his foot.
"I don't want to have to pry all of that off of you, but you should know by now that I will."
To illustrate his point, Crowley leaned over and grabbed at a bit of bedcover with one hand.
He'd almost completely forgotten--the week started today, didn't it?
A low, unhappy grunt followed Crowley's prodding of the blankets. Why couldn't a guy just sleep? What was with all of this "rising" and "shining" crap? Henry felt like he'd been beaten about the head and shoulders with a sack full of bricks and there was Crowley, expecting breakfast or something for all he knew. It wasn't fair.
The hand on his blanket was motivation, though. Just a little. Henry peeked his head back out, then snaked a hand out to cover his eyes and shield them from the sun. His five o'clock shadow was more pronounced this morning, and there were dark circles under his eyes. Truth be told he looked like five miles of torn up road this morning, and felt every inch of it.
Once out of the blankets he set his head back down on the floor and lay there for a moment, prone, with his hand over his eyes. "Good morning to you too," he managed eventually, voice thick with dehydration and a bit deeper than normal, thanks to having just woken up.
"That's an improvement." Crowley teased, tugging at the blankets a little more when he heard the first grunt issue forth from under the pile. "Come on now, Sleeping Beauty."
His insistence appeared to be paying off.
"So it exists after all." the demon continued. "The fabled creature - Henry. This specimen's eyes seem to be a little more bloodshot than other of its species...Hm, yes, and I think this one might need a shave sometime soon as well. But it lives, nonetheless, and I've heard that, not only do that make excellent servants, but they're not bad company as well. Almost makes me long for my camera all over again."
True, he wasn't being very nice, but that had never been in his job description. And even if he had a little fun at Henry's expense, once the other took his advice (and some of Paradisa's magic little pills) he would be no worse for it.
"I have an idea." Crowley continued. "I owe you for tossing me into bed the other night. How about I go run some water and toss you in the tub?"
The hand shielding Henry's eyes lifted ever-so-slightly to allow Henry to glare at Crowley, during the demon's little schpiel. Now he was making fun of him, too? The guy was apparently much more of a bastard than previously suspected.
Still, a bath sounded...really, really nice.
"Okay," he relented, nodding a little. "Thank you."
Henry yawned and moved his hand to stifle it, squeezing his eyes tightly shut while the hand was unavailable to shield them. At Crowley's unrelenting tugging at the blankets Henry finally gave in and sat up, covering his eyes again as he did so. The light was still practically unbearable, but at least movement was possible--as long as he went slowly.
He'd fallen asleep a second time, after a brief period of wakefulness which followed Crowley's exit but which he couldn't for the life of him remember, in a pair of blue and white plaid boxers. When the blanket finally slid away and exposed his lean torso, it also exposed to the light the myriad scars and welts on his flesh. Some of them were overly large and nasty looking, like the chainsaw scar over his left shoulder and the matching one that ran just above his right hip. Others were smaller, resembling the kind of scar a gunshot wound might make. Still others were oddly shaped and practically unrecognizable--those had come from the various creatures of the Other World.
Henry normally didn't like anyone seeing him without a shirt on, for this very reason...but right now he just wanted a bath and he wanted his head to stop hurting.
"...tossed you into bed?" the man asked, eyebrows knitting in confusion. "What are you talking about?"
Why did being around Henry always induce an eyebrow-raise, or some similar reaction? The demon could feel his face doing so, yet again, and he pushed his sunglasses back just a tad to make up for it. He didn't mind actually running some water for Henry, but if he could stand up on his own? Then Crowley wasn't going to be tossing him.
And oh, that was pretty. More souvenirs from that psycho's 'Other World'. They were almost hard to look at, especially the ones that didn't have any easily identifiable origin. He almost wanted to ask, out of a morbid curiousity, how Henry had obtained some of the nastier looking ones and still come out alright...But the had just started not long ago now for either of them. Drudging up things like that wasn't necessary. More teasing, on the other hand, was perfectly acceptable.
"Plaid?" the being asked. "Wonderful. I go from one that's obsessed with tartan to another that wears plaid." Crowley shook his head as he tossed the freed covers back onto the bed, not bothering to straighten them, and headed for the bathroom. He raised his voice, to be heard above the running water.
"Yes, tossed me in bed, that's what I-"
And then a wonderful and delicious realization worked its way into Crowley's mind. A smile that, thankfully, Henry couldn't see, planted itself firmly on his face.
"You don't remember, Henry? You tossed me up into the bed, like a complete gentleman, but then you tried to crawl in with me!"
Henry had been trying, valiantly, to make his way toward the bathroom. He'd discovered, after that initial movement, that actually forward locomotion was a bit more difficult. Especially while trying to keep his eyes as covered as humanly possible. He'd settled for a kind of half-crawl, half-walking on his knees, with one hand out to feel for obstacles, when Crowley called out to him from the bathroom.
The man froze.
Disbelief gave way to horror gave way to mortification, all within the span of a few seconds.
Had he been...that drunk?
Oh God....
Henry gulped, hard. He had to think about this rationally. How much could he remember of the other night? There was...Crowley, sitting next to him, and...a lot of bottles (most of which were still strewn about the room at this point), and...nothing else. He was drawing an almost complete and utter blank.
But would he--could he actually do something like that?
Without inhibitions.... Henry shuddered, the look of horror still plastered on his face.
The silence coming from the main room was like music to Crowley's ears. Henry had actually believed that? Then today was about to get a good more entertaining than it originally seemed.
"Oh, I wouldn't worry about it too much, Henry. You tried once or twice, but you eventually left for the floor after I kicked you out of the bed. Granted, this was after you'd-Ow."
Crowley'd been so busy teasing that he'd let the water get a little too hot. Just add in some cold then...
"This was all after you'd already kissed me, and insisted that we get to know each other better. I wasn't sure whether to be flattered, or mortified."
After that last line, Crowley waited, very nearly holding his breath in anticipation. Earlier, when he'd been getting cleaned up himself, he'd been without a single clue as to how to go about discussing anything from the other night. This seemed to be working though. If the truths stashed in among the lies didn't register anywhere, then he could always go back later and reveal what was true and what wasn't. Not exactly fullproof, but it was much better than his 'nothing' from before. And more evil. And more fun.
If ever Henry had wanted to simply melt through a floor and disappear...now was the time.
He would never do any of those things sober. Never. Not in a million years. No matter how much he liked the demon, he couldn't even begin to imagine himself being so...so...forward.
But how was he to know that those things hadn't happened while he'd been drunk? After all, he couldn't remember pretty much anything from the other night. That meant he had to have been really damn wasted. It didn't even occur to Henry that Crowley might be lying about any of it, at least not yet. Henry had tried so hard to keep his feelings hidden--how the hell would the demon know what buttons to push?
The man, who'd been kneeling near the desk holding the television, sat back down on the floor and leaned heavily against the side of the desk, eyes closed.
What the hell did you say to someone in a situation like this? I'm sorry I tried to get into your pants while I was drunk? I promise it won't happen while I'm sober?
Another round of lies passed by and Crowley still appeared to be safe. There was an absolute silence from the other, and it was almost sort of eerie. Time to change up what he told about then.
"Mhm." the demon started in. "You told me some interesting things too. You're just...Henry, you're just not the kind of guy I ever envisioned to have actually liked pink. If I'd known that, I would have chosen a different color to dye your hair! I thought you were just rambling at first, I mean, you had downed your share...'Henry', I said, 'You don't know what you're saying. I turned your hair pink because I knew you could hate it!' but then you insisted right back 'No, Crowley, I've got to tell you...Secretly, it's my absolute favourite color.'"
The water was about the right temperature then, and that was a relief. Crowley honestly had no idea how much longer he'd be able to keep this little game of his up. Maybe it was time to check on his victim?
Walking out, drying his fingers on a hand-towel, Crowley took in the utter Oh God look on Henry's face...and burst out laughing.
Crowley was lying. Henry's favorite color was, and always had been, blue. Even drunk, something like that wouldn't change.
He's lying. I...I didn't....
And then the laughter. Henry might've been able to handle the fact that the demon had been pulling his leg, had Crowley not come out and started laughing at him. In pain as he was though, and still groggy, and touchy about the particular subject Crowley had chosen to jest about....
Very slowly, and silently, Henry rose to his feet with support from the desk at his side. Despite the pain it caused he opened his eyes, enough to see anyway, and judged the distance to the bathroom door. He could make it that far.
The expression on Henry's face could have been read as one of quiet, seething rage. He didn't give the demon another look, not even when he brushed angrily past him near the bathroom doorway. The scarred man wasn't moving very well--not at all, in fact--but determination kept him going long enough to get where he wanted to be.
The door slammed shut.
A moment later, the sound of retching filtered out.
((ooc: random note--no, the door's not locked ^_^))
Crowley hadn't been able to stop laughing at first, even after Henry'd shut himself in the bathroom. The reaction was too much like the ones he was already used to getting - a huffy, pissy looking Angel, and some door inevitably being slammed until the other party was no longer mad. Or wanted company for tea. Then again, Aziraphale was undoubtedly more used to his little stunts by now. Or at least one would assume so.
Crowley regained his composure and sighed as Henry's conversation with 'Ralph' and 'John' worked its way through the door. Maybe he should've waited until after the guy'd had a shower?
"My bad, Henry." Crowley started off, but not feeling all -that- bad at all. "But you know, I was only partially kidding."
Thankfully Henry didn't really have that much to get out of his system. He might've even made it without getting sick if Crowley hadn't pulled that little stunt...but the combination of embarrassment and anger churned his stomach enough that he couldn't stop it. It had been a lot of hours since he'd ingested anything solid though, so after a couple of minutes the retching subsided and he found himself letting his forehead rest against the cool porcelain.
"But you know, I was only partially kidding."
Henry lifted his head blearily from where he'd been cooling his skin against the toilet seat. Was he...was he serious? Henry couldn't even tell anymore, he was too hung over and upset.
He finally rose, flushing the toilet one last time, and stumbled over to the sink. A quick scrub of his teeth and a bit of mouthwash and his mouth felt good as new. Too bad the rest of him couldn't say the same.
Maybe he should open the door, ask the demon what the hell he was talking about. Let him know that he wasn't quite as angry at him now.
But there was all that warm, inviting bathwater nearby. It would be a shame to let it go to waste....
From inside the bathroom came the sounds of water churning as Henry stepped into the tub, and the brisk sound of the shower curtain being drawn.
Crowley waited after hearing the toilet flush. He assumed that Henry was no going through the same motions he himself had previously. If that was the case, then the next few sounds would be either-
'Rinse'
Sink sounds.
Teeth, then shower. Opposite from Crowley's own routine, but just as effective.
He waited a bit more, humming a bar of something quietly until he could distinguish what could only have been Henry settling into the bathwater. Good. It would have been a shame if that had been allowed to go cold. Anthony Crowley didn't just run water for anybody.
When he was certain that Henry was indeed inside the tub, (shower curtain and all) he tested the handle on the door. Unlocked!
Excellent.
Crowley pushed the door open, releasing the handle and waiting until his entranceway widened before sauntering in like he owned the place. Sinks were fast becoming familiar seats to the being and he wiped a splash of water from the rim before seating himself on it. Once up, Crowley crossed one leg over the other and folded his hands on top of his knee.
"We've spent an awful lot of time in bathrooms lately - did you notice?"
Silence from behind the curtain for a moment. Henry slipped deeper into the bath, to the point where his chin was just grazing the top of the water with his head back against the side of the tub.
He'd known Crowley was going to come in, that's why he'd drawn the curtain--he knew enough about the demon at this point to know that he wouldn't let Henry stew alone for long. Not when he had some kind of ammunition. Something to hang over a person's head.
He remained quiet while the demon settled himself on the sink, simply enjoying the warm water and the blissful shadows created by the opaque shower curtain.
Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain.
"I did notice, actually," Henry replied in a croaking voice, raising an arm to slide the curtain away just a little--enough to where he could see Crowley. Or rather, squint at Crowley, at least until his eyes readjusted. His head was still throbbing terribly but the warm water was doing wonders for the rest of his body. "I'm sure Freud would have something to say about it."
"Henry." the demon muttered, and rinsed the toothpaste out of his mouth with a large cup of water.
It was slow going at first, mostly because he was waiting for the aspirin, or whatever the hell the pills had been, to take effect. Once he got to the outside of room 1420, however, he was in much better spirits. He wasn't thinking about anything in particular, and certainly not about the last time he'd been there, which was probably for the best. At least at the time.
"Come on, Henry, rise and shine. Open the door."
He knocked, and continued on talking to the man on the other side.
"You're going to start worrying people Henry, so come on out."
Then he heard the muffled 'THUMP' that indicated something man-sized, had fallen down a few feet and off of the floor. It was the kind of 'THUMP' that probably meant that Henry had fallen out of bed.
"Oh, for the love of..."
If he was falling out of his own bed, there was no way he'd be unable to open the door. Hadn't he left this cracked? Damn.
Crowley tested the handle one more time, and tried pressing against the door. Sort of a trial. He pulled himself back a foot or so and rammed his shoulder into it once. It had felt like it had moved...And he really didn't want to have to resort to the window...Again then. The demon pulled back a little further the second time and made to ram his shoulder against the door again, when it flew open and sent him sprawling into the room, onto the floor.
Paradisa? Kind? Castle be damned.
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And then he heard a second, softer thump. Sort of like the very first one, the one where he'd fallen out of bed. Only not so...painful.
A head poked out of the blankets, wild brunette hair sticking out every which way, and a pair of squinting, bloodshot green eyes gazed vaguely toward the door. From his vantage point to the side of the bed he couldn't see Crowley, who was currently sprawled in the entryway. What in the world had that been? And why was the door hanging open like that?
Oh who cared? The light was making his eyes water and the pain was getting worse the longer he stayed out in the open. The blanket flew up over his head again and the cocooned man lay back down against the floor.
Better.
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"Get up, Henry. Rise and shine. Or, better yet, rise, take some medicine, shower, change, and -then- shine."
Crowley made his way closer to the lump of sheets as he spoke and at the last mention of 'shine', prodded said lump with his foot.
"I don't want to have to pry all of that off of you, but you should know by now that I will."
To illustrate his point, Crowley leaned over and grabbed at a bit of bedcover with one hand.
"What's it going to be, Slave?"
Oh, yes. The week had only just begun.
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Oh...shit.
He'd almost completely forgotten--the week started today, didn't it?
A low, unhappy grunt followed Crowley's prodding of the blankets. Why couldn't a guy just sleep? What was with all of this "rising" and "shining" crap? Henry felt like he'd been beaten about the head and shoulders with a sack full of bricks and there was Crowley, expecting breakfast or something for all he knew. It wasn't fair.
The hand on his blanket was motivation, though. Just a little. Henry peeked his head back out, then snaked a hand out to cover his eyes and shield them from the sun. His five o'clock shadow was more pronounced this morning, and there were dark circles under his eyes. Truth be told he looked like five miles of torn up road this morning, and felt every inch of it.
Once out of the blankets he set his head back down on the floor and lay there for a moment, prone, with his hand over his eyes. "Good morning to you too," he managed eventually, voice thick with dehydration and a bit deeper than normal, thanks to having just woken up.
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His insistence appeared to be paying off.
"So it exists after all." the demon continued. "The fabled creature - Henry. This specimen's eyes seem to be a little more bloodshot than other of its species...Hm, yes, and I think this one might need a shave sometime soon as well. But it lives, nonetheless, and I've heard that, not only do that make excellent servants, but they're not bad company as well. Almost makes me long for my camera all over again."
True, he wasn't being very nice, but that had never been in his job description. And even if he had a little fun at Henry's expense, once the other took his advice (and some of Paradisa's magic little pills) he would be no worse for it.
"I have an idea." Crowley continued. "I owe you for tossing me into bed the other night. How about I go run some water and toss you in the tub?"
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Still, a bath sounded...really, really nice.
"Okay," he relented, nodding a little. "Thank you."
Henry yawned and moved his hand to stifle it, squeezing his eyes tightly shut while the hand was unavailable to shield them. At Crowley's unrelenting tugging at the blankets Henry finally gave in and sat up, covering his eyes again as he did so. The light was still practically unbearable, but at least movement was possible--as long as he went slowly.
He'd fallen asleep a second time, after a brief period of wakefulness which followed Crowley's exit but which he couldn't for the life of him remember, in a pair of blue and white plaid boxers. When the blanket finally slid away and exposed his lean torso, it also exposed to the light the myriad scars and welts on his flesh. Some of them were overly large and nasty looking, like the chainsaw scar over his left shoulder and the matching one that ran just above his right hip. Others were smaller, resembling the kind of scar a gunshot wound might make. Still others were oddly shaped and practically unrecognizable--those had come from the various creatures of the Other World.
Henry normally didn't like anyone seeing him without a shirt on, for this very reason...but right now he just wanted a bath and he wanted his head to stop hurting.
"...tossed you into bed?" the man asked, eyebrows knitting in confusion. "What are you talking about?"
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And oh, that was pretty. More souvenirs from that psycho's 'Other World'. They were almost hard to look at, especially the ones that didn't have any easily identifiable origin. He almost wanted to ask, out of a morbid curiousity, how Henry had obtained some of the nastier looking ones and still come out alright...But the had just started not long ago now for either of them. Drudging up things like that wasn't necessary. More teasing, on the other hand, was perfectly acceptable.
"Plaid?" the being asked. "Wonderful. I go from one that's obsessed with tartan to another that wears plaid." Crowley shook his head as he tossed the freed covers back onto the bed, not bothering to straighten them, and headed for the bathroom. He raised his voice, to be heard above the running water.
"Yes, tossed me in bed, that's what I-"
And then a wonderful and delicious realization worked its way into Crowley's mind. A smile that, thankfully, Henry couldn't see, planted itself firmly on his face.
"You don't remember, Henry? You tossed me up into the bed, like a complete gentleman, but then you tried to crawl in with me!"
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The man froze.
Disbelief gave way to horror gave way to mortification, all within the span of a few seconds.
Had he been...that drunk?
Oh God....
Henry gulped, hard. He had to think about this rationally. How much could he remember of the other night? There was...Crowley, sitting next to him, and...a lot of bottles (most of which were still strewn about the room at this point), and...nothing else. He was drawing an almost complete and utter blank.
But would he--could he actually do something like that?
Without inhibitions.... Henry shuddered, the look of horror still plastered on his face.
Oh God oh God oh God....
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"Oh, I wouldn't worry about it too much, Henry. You tried once or twice, but you eventually left for the floor after I kicked you out of the bed. Granted, this was after you'd-Ow."
Crowley'd been so busy teasing that he'd let the water get a little too hot. Just add in some cold then...
"This was all after you'd already kissed me, and insisted that we get to know each other better. I wasn't sure whether to be flattered, or mortified."
After that last line, Crowley waited, very nearly holding his breath in anticipation. Earlier, when he'd been getting cleaned up himself, he'd been without a single clue as to how to go about discussing anything from the other night. This seemed to be working though. If the truths stashed in among the lies didn't register anywhere, then he could always go back later and reveal what was true and what wasn't. Not exactly fullproof, but it was much better than his 'nothing' from before. And more evil. And more fun.
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He would never do any of those things sober. Never. Not in a million years. No matter how much he liked the demon, he couldn't even begin to imagine himself being so...so...forward.
But how was he to know that those things hadn't happened while he'd been drunk? After all, he couldn't remember pretty much anything from the other night. That meant he had to have been really damn wasted. It didn't even occur to Henry that Crowley might be lying about any of it, at least not yet. Henry had tried so hard to keep his feelings hidden--how the hell would the demon know what buttons to push?
The man, who'd been kneeling near the desk holding the television, sat back down on the floor and leaned heavily against the side of the desk, eyes closed.
What the hell did you say to someone in a situation like this? I'm sorry I tried to get into your pants while I was drunk? I promise it won't happen while I'm sober?
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"Mhm." the demon started in. "You told me some interesting things too. You're just...Henry, you're just not the kind of guy I ever envisioned to have actually liked pink. If I'd known that, I would have chosen a different color to dye your hair! I thought you were just rambling at first, I mean, you had downed your share...'Henry', I said, 'You don't know what you're saying. I turned your hair pink because I knew you could hate it!' but then you insisted right back 'No, Crowley, I've got to tell you...Secretly, it's my absolute favourite color.'"
The water was about the right temperature then, and that was a relief. Crowley honestly had no idea how much longer he'd be able to keep this little game of his up. Maybe it was time to check on his victim?
Walking out, drying his fingers on a hand-towel, Crowley took in the utter Oh God look on Henry's face...and burst out laughing.
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Crowley was lying. Henry's favorite color was, and always had been, blue. Even drunk, something like that wouldn't change.
He's lying. I...I didn't....
And then the laughter. Henry might've been able to handle the fact that the demon had been pulling his leg, had Crowley not come out and started laughing at him. In pain as he was though, and still groggy, and touchy about the particular subject Crowley had chosen to jest about....
Very slowly, and silently, Henry rose to his feet with support from the desk at his side. Despite the pain it caused he opened his eyes, enough to see anyway, and judged the distance to the bathroom door. He could make it that far.
The expression on Henry's face could have been read as one of quiet, seething rage. He didn't give the demon another look, not even when he brushed angrily past him near the bathroom doorway. The scarred man wasn't moving very well--not at all, in fact--but determination kept him going long enough to get where he wanted to be.
The door slammed shut.
A moment later, the sound of retching filtered out.
((ooc: random note--no, the door's not locked ^_^))
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Crowley hadn't been able to stop laughing at first, even after Henry'd shut himself in the bathroom. The reaction was too much like the ones he was already used to getting - a huffy, pissy looking Angel, and some door inevitably being slammed until the other party was no longer mad. Or wanted company for tea. Then again, Aziraphale was undoubtedly more used to his little stunts by now. Or at least one would assume so.
Crowley regained his composure and sighed as Henry's conversation with 'Ralph' and 'John' worked its way through the door. Maybe he should've waited until after the guy'd had a shower?
"My bad, Henry." Crowley started off, but not feeling all -that- bad at all. "But you know, I was only partially kidding."
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"But you know, I was only partially kidding."
Henry lifted his head blearily from where he'd been cooling his skin against the toilet seat. Was he...was he serious? Henry couldn't even tell anymore, he was too hung over and upset.
He finally rose, flushing the toilet one last time, and stumbled over to the sink. A quick scrub of his teeth and a bit of mouthwash and his mouth felt good as new. Too bad the rest of him couldn't say the same.
Maybe he should open the door, ask the demon what the hell he was talking about. Let him know that he wasn't quite as angry at him now.
But there was all that warm, inviting bathwater nearby. It would be a shame to let it go to waste....
From inside the bathroom came the sounds of water churning as Henry stepped into the tub, and the brisk sound of the shower curtain being drawn.
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'Rinse'
Sink sounds.
Teeth, then shower. Opposite from Crowley's own routine, but just as effective.
He waited a bit more, humming a bar of something quietly until he could distinguish what could only have been Henry settling into the bathwater. Good. It would have been a shame if that had been allowed to go cold. Anthony Crowley didn't just run water for anybody.
When he was certain that Henry was indeed inside the tub, (shower curtain and all) he tested the handle on the door. Unlocked!
Excellent.
Crowley pushed the door open, releasing the handle and waiting until his entranceway widened before sauntering in like he owned the place. Sinks were fast becoming familiar seats to the being and he wiped a splash of water from the rim before seating himself on it. Once up, Crowley crossed one leg over the other and folded his hands on top of his knee.
"We've spent an awful lot of time in bathrooms lately - did you notice?"
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He'd known Crowley was going to come in, that's why he'd drawn the curtain--he knew enough about the demon at this point to know that he wouldn't let Henry stew alone for long. Not when he had some kind of ammunition. Something to hang over a person's head.
He remained quiet while the demon settled himself on the sink, simply enjoying the warm water and the blissful shadows created by the opaque shower curtain.
Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain.
"I did notice, actually," Henry replied in a croaking voice, raising an arm to slide the curtain away just a little--enough to where he could see Crowley. Or rather, squint at Crowley, at least until his eyes readjusted. His head was still throbbing terribly but the warm water was doing wonders for the rest of his body. "I'm sure Freud would have something to say about it."
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