[OOC: Annual winter post. :3 Both Decembers, the comments have been up in the thousands. The post is open all of December until January for all/any winter/holiday shenanigans. Quick reminder, you are encouraged to tag around, tag to other threads as well as making your own. Feel free to spam! :D]This December in Chicago is as filled with
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This is the reason why when she wakes up in what could be a brown cardboard box, she's incredibly confused. She frowns, her head tipping to the side as she tries to look over her situation, before starting to push at the walls. This ... is not good. This is not good at all.
Panic and claustrophobia start to kick in and she begins to struggle against the walls of the box, pushing as hard as she can to get away and get out, when she feels the box start to lose it's balance and tip too far to one side.
"Oh no," she gasps as she feels herself start to fall, "oh no no no no ... ow!"
She hits the ground with a thud!, before she sighs heavily ( ... )
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She has a feeling it is, but she wants verification.
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"Wouldn't have thought to put it that way, but yeah. It is."
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Suddenly appearing in the living room, his eyes narrow at the tipped over gift in the middle of the floor. Talbot definitely doesn't know where he lives just yet, but he's pretty sure Castiel can find him if wants to. However, he doubts the feather-brain is one for gifts.
That doesn't leave much else, just the Rift. So he's extra suspicious. Crowley moves about the gift cautiously. It sounds like something's moving in there. Interesting.
"Alright, you've got ten seconds before I incinerate you. Who's there?" he says finally.
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And since when was James Sterling in Chicago? (Spoiler: He's not.)
But Sophie doesn't know that. At least not yet. "Sterling?" she frowns pounding against the cardboard box. "Bloody hell, Sterling, let me out already."
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"Sorry, love. Got the wrong guy," he tells her flatly.
He sighs, that banging is going to give him a migraine. Stooping slightly, he unties the ribbon and yanks the lid off. He straightens up and looks down at the woman that comes tumbling out, he's not very impressed.
"Well, this wasn't exactly the gift I was looking for this Christmas," he says.
Unless it's your soul, Sophie. Can he have that?
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"Of all the nerve," she says with a glare. "You really expect me to believe that you're not who I think you are. I'll have you know I'm the queen of pretending to be someone I'm not -- you know that -- and you're bloody terrible at it."
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Crowley just watches her, a look that's a mix of annoyance and amusement on his face. "Well, yes, yes I do," he says flatly, "Seeing as I'm definitely not who you think I am,"
"Charming. Well, I'm the King of Hell, so how about that?" he replies with a dark smile, "The name's Crowley. Definitely not... Sterling."
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Sophie has heard about two arrivals sharing the same face, but she hasn't actually seen it in action before now. Her head tips to the side, and she looks him over -- huh -- before crossing her arms in front of her chest.
"Well. This must be awkward."
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Crowley just looks at her, eyebrows raised. He's not very impressed by all this now. He'd like to know just why is she in his apartment and in all things, a box, wrapped up like a bloody Christmas present.
"Eh, more for you than me, darling," he says with a lazily shrug, "Fancy a drink? You look a picture after being in that... box,"
He pauses and reaching to pour himself a glass of Craig before gesturing to her, pouring a second if she agrees to one, "So, fancy telling me why you're in my apartment?"
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If he's going to have that good taste, they might actually get along rather well.
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