7 [Video]

[kissesdarling]

[The video starts out showing a lot of fucking pies. No, seriously -- they are stacked at least four deep, of all sorts of varieties, on a kitchen counter. Past that, there are at least four dozen cookies, scattered around the kitchen in various piles, but some of them seem to be suspiciously angel-shaped. And by 'angel shaped', we mean 'they were

Comments

[abrotherlikeyou]

How thoughtful. I know there's a shelter by the docks...

[kissesdarling]

I used holy oil for icing.

I can have them delivered first-class.

[abrotherlikeyou]

They don't deliver to my house, Crowley. Why don't you send them to Gabriel's whore instead? You can even sign my name.

[kissesdarling]

How incredibly classy of you.

I do believe the girl has a name.

[abrotherlikeyou]

I'm sure she does. [so bored with this, Crowley.]

[kissesdarling]

I'm certain you have something better to do than talk to me. I know I do.

[Somewhat snippishly -- and even for Crowley, who spends his time bantering and poking fun and being a general laid back individual -- there's a real bite to his tone that is not normally there, even with Lucifer.]

[abrotherlikeyou]

I'm trying to remember when you developed this Betty Crocker streak. Because I think Lillith noticed it in Hell, but...well, it's hard to be sure....

[kissesdarling]

[Oh, you don't really have the right to talk about Lilith to him, but he holds his tongue, for once.]

I got bored with my fellow comrades torturing souls and rolling in their own coagulated blood and bought a cookbook.

[It's hard to tell whether or not he's serious. He probably is.]

[abrotherlikeyou]

Hm.

[He's playing with a Rubik's cube--the colored squares show up at the bottom of the screen]

That's...fascinating, Crowley. Keep up the good work. We need more homocidal chefs in the kitchen.

[kissesdarling]

[A Rubik's Cube. Honestly? Seriously? The flippancy, and the apathy, and the attitude after doing something so incredibly stupid causes his temper to spark, and Crowley says, quite coldly:]

It's good to know that you've recovered from your stint of idiocy, then.

[abrotherlikeyou]

[He won't respond, he won't respond.

Fuck you, Crowley.]

I hear you've been cosying up to my daughter. Or fake daughter. But listen, however you want to think of her? She's still a minor. Have her home by midnight.

[A bland smile. Don't you dare try to bring up the lion again, Crowley.]

[kissesdarling]

[Oh, is that the tiniest flicker of anger Crowley sees? How extraordinarily worth it. He'll take that satisfaction straight to the bank, thank you very much.]

I hear you're a suicidal prat, but rumors are rumors are truths.

Your daughter is in perfectly good hands. Spoilers: They aren't my own.

[Christina is making friends, unusually enough. Crowley hadn't expected that speech to actually work.]

[abrotherlikeyou]

I'm not suicidal at all, actually. You can scratch that rumor out of the gossip rags.

And anyway, that's a shame. The last thing Christina needs is to be around people who think you demons are just mindless drones.

[Did he just call Crowley a good influence? Yes. Yes he did.]

[kissesdarling]

[The slightest arch of his eyebrows at the backhanded compliment. Excuse me?

But Crowley does not take the bait. Instead, he rolls his eyes slightly to the left, toward a stack of cookies.]

Most demons are.

[And Crowley glances back toward the PCD, bile in his throat.]

Lilith certainly didn't kill herself because she thought about it.

[abrotherlikeyou]

That's a lie. She thought for decades about it. She even had doubts about me. I would have thought she'd tell them to you of all people.

[kissesdarling]

[That gets a scoff as Crowley slides his hands into his pockets. His NV is held in place with telekinesis, hovering in mid-air, over the stove.]

Spare me, Lucifer.

You know as much of Lilith as you do about me, which is shockingly little, so please stop this ridiculous attempt to make me jealous and continue on with your original attempt to annoy me.

[And his tone takes on the slightest tilt of angry, just at the barest edges.]

It may prove to be more profitable.