I've noticed that individuals within the city dislike traversing across the city at night. I can hardly blame them -- the majority of people within this city don't have the necessary amount of power and finesse to navigate the city after sirens. But I do
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yourr going to do work?
why do yourneedd to remove blod fron your gloves?
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[He sounds more or less normal there, just still snippy.]
Why did you attack those people?
[He's not taking the bullshit answer okay. As far as he understands Crowley is not the type to do such a traditionally demonic thing, so he wants to know.]
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I was drugged.
The individuals I killed were a bunch of drug addicts, homeless people, and some whores from a club, so I doubt they will be missed.
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[Demons are pretty damn tough, just like angels. A drug that could affect one was worrisome.]
Who they were doesn't matter, Crowley. Killing them needlessly is still wrong.
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[But he's bothered. Not really by the loss of life -- no, Crowley could care less about them. But losing control -- it's unlike him. Horrendously unlike him. Attacking civilians, attempting to kill Mary Winchester, murdering a train car -- bloodthirsty mindless savages.]
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[Again, said with far more tone than the angel usually used. He's a bitter drunk.]
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I could care less about the individuals I killed, idiot! Something drugged me and they saw who I was!
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I asked you about that and you disregarded my questions.
[In other words, no sympathy for you, demon. Even if he does nothing that he certainly doesn't look good.]
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[He raises his hand, almost as if he's going to blast Castiel across the street -- but he stops, scowling in irritation, before he raises his hand. Through telekinesis, Castiel is brought back onto his feet.]
They tried to exorcise me. They shot me. I have holy water on my coat!
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That is the usual response to a demon.
[But then his countenance shifts slightly, and he's a little less snappish.]
If you were drugged then it wasn't truly breaking the deal.
[Just like it wasn't truly Sam's fault he'd attacked him.]
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-- they used an exorcism ritual on me. They are lucky to have their tongues intact. And their livers. And speaking of livers --
[He sends a pebble towards his arm with an incline of his head.]
You reek of cheap liquor and Impala.
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[Back to sarcastic. And the pebble bonks off his shoulder harmlessly, though it does send the angel into an unsteady sway.]
There's no Impala here. And I don't have a lot of money.
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[Irritably. He's cornered, angry, and terrified. Castiel is a great target.]
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[Really. And he might be learning some taste in this subject, but it still doesn't matter enough to him when he wants to get drunk just for the sake of it.]
You have no reason to be so invested in my drinking habits, either.
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[Quite suddenly -- and Crowley pauses, a delicate twist of his wrist summons a drink to it.]
-- I have every reason to be invested.
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Lucifer? Why?
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