5 [Accidental Video]
[The camera turns on to a nice flat, with a large bookshelf, a fine liquor cabinet, and a nice couch and set of chairs. There are stacks of books on the coffee table, along with a variety of notes, and a blanket on the couch that looks slightly rumpled. It’s something of a normal scene -- if you ignore the pointless bitching in the corner, anyway, as your neighborhood friendly demon comes into view, holding a crate that is clinking with what appears to be glass. And, oddly, one of Crowley’s sleeves of his shirt seems to be rolled up.
But ignore that in favor of the bitching, everybody. It surely doesn’t actually matter. Because the NV has picked up only half of what Crowley is pissed off about.]
-- living here, what in the ever-loving Hell is all of this?
[Castiel passes briefly in front of the camera, distinctive by his trenchcoat, and then disappears out of view once more. His voice, though, is still audible through the NV.]
It's dark, Crowley. I can't leave.
[There’s a silence, from the demon, and he drops the wooden crate on the coffee table, whatever is inside rattling as the crate slides off of a book. It is caught by a movement of Crowley’s hand, which places it on the couch, as Crowley stares after Castiel, incredulous.]
Did you do this on purpose? Did you just sit here and waste my time on purpose? Do your keepers not feed you? I’m not your damn guardian.
[Castiel returns to view, giving the demon a clearly unimpressed look, before taking a seat on the couch. He has a small box in hand, as well as a glass of something clearly alcoholic, and he sets both on the coffee table in order to pick up one of several books scattered around and reopen it. He glances at the crate then, and completely ignores Crowley's questions in favor of one of his own.]
What is this?
If those are my truffles, I will use your eyes for garnish in a martini.
[And, with a flick of his wrist, the crate moves out of view, into the kitchen, and Crowley is seen rolling down his sleeve, buttoning it at the cuff with a smooth motion before finding his coat, shrugging it on easily.]
You don’t have the sense of class needed to eat one.
[A flash of understanding crosses Castiel's face for a moment as he glances from where the crate had been to Crowley's sleeve, then he turns his attention to the box he'd set on the table. Picking it up, he opens the lid, clearly unbothered by the demon's threats.]
I wondered what they were.
[He glances up at Crowley again.]
Why do you even keep food? You have no need to eat.
[The demon doesn’t answer, for a moment or two, because he’s clearly intent on ignoring Castiel enough to have him leave -- but after a moment, he moves out of the frame, and a glass clinks, but Crowley’s voice is still heard.]
Because --
[And the lid of the box of truffles abruptly slams down and clicks shut, though no one actually touches it.]
-- I can.
[Castiel just looks down at the now closed box, sighs quietly, and sets it down in favor of the alcohol. Fine, Crowley. He'll just drink and not eat, whatever. He's quiet a moment, before speaking more seriously.]
How much longer until it will be safe to stop?
[And the demon moves into view again, to lean slightly against a table against the wall, fixated on his drink, not responding to whatever Castiel is talking about. And before the demon can respond, the feed crackles abruptly -- and it dies out.]
ooc: Crowley is red, Castiel is blue!
But ignore that in favor of the bitching, everybody. It surely doesn’t actually matter. Because the NV has picked up only half of what Crowley is pissed off about.]
-- living here, what in the ever-loving Hell is all of this?
[Castiel passes briefly in front of the camera, distinctive by his trenchcoat, and then disappears out of view once more. His voice, though, is still audible through the NV.]
It's dark, Crowley. I can't leave.
[There’s a silence, from the demon, and he drops the wooden crate on the coffee table, whatever is inside rattling as the crate slides off of a book. It is caught by a movement of Crowley’s hand, which places it on the couch, as Crowley stares after Castiel, incredulous.]
Did you do this on purpose? Did you just sit here and waste my time on purpose? Do your keepers not feed you? I’m not your damn guardian.
[Castiel returns to view, giving the demon a clearly unimpressed look, before taking a seat on the couch. He has a small box in hand, as well as a glass of something clearly alcoholic, and he sets both on the coffee table in order to pick up one of several books scattered around and reopen it. He glances at the crate then, and completely ignores Crowley's questions in favor of one of his own.]
What is this?
If those are my truffles, I will use your eyes for garnish in a martini.
[And, with a flick of his wrist, the crate moves out of view, into the kitchen, and Crowley is seen rolling down his sleeve, buttoning it at the cuff with a smooth motion before finding his coat, shrugging it on easily.]
You don’t have the sense of class needed to eat one.
[A flash of understanding crosses Castiel's face for a moment as he glances from where the crate had been to Crowley's sleeve, then he turns his attention to the box he'd set on the table. Picking it up, he opens the lid, clearly unbothered by the demon's threats.]
I wondered what they were.
[He glances up at Crowley again.]
Why do you even keep food? You have no need to eat.
[The demon doesn’t answer, for a moment or two, because he’s clearly intent on ignoring Castiel enough to have him leave -- but after a moment, he moves out of the frame, and a glass clinks, but Crowley’s voice is still heard.]
Because --
[And the lid of the box of truffles abruptly slams down and clicks shut, though no one actually touches it.]
-- I can.
[Castiel just looks down at the now closed box, sighs quietly, and sets it down in favor of the alcohol. Fine, Crowley. He'll just drink and not eat, whatever. He's quiet a moment, before speaking more seriously.]
How much longer until it will be safe to stop?
[And the demon moves into view again, to lean slightly against a table against the wall, fixated on his drink, not responding to whatever Castiel is talking about. And before the demon can respond, the feed crackles abruptly -- and it dies out.]
ooc: Crowley is red, Castiel is blue!