[The NV isn't showing much of anything, because it's in Crowley's coat pocket, though you can definitely hear some muffled cursing. It isn't in English, and it's actually quite offensive, if anyone knows Latin, but don't worry, it probably isn't directed at you. A scraping of a gate, a thrown aside trash can, and it sounds as if Crowley is walking
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You're gonna have a hard time takin' that thing for a walk.
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[Rather easily.]
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Is that what I think it is?
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Honestly, he's like a dog markin' his territory. D'you want me to start keepin' an eye on you now?
[ the expression changes slightly, losing some of the blankness, the corner of his mouth twitching up slightly. ]
.. Speakin' of dogs, must be nice havin' yours here finally.
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He's thrown something of a tantrum because he's under the impression I'm going to do as he says.
[And Crowley comes into view. He's drying off his hands.]
Bless his heart.
[He doesn't mention the dog. It made his horrible day slightly less horrible, but he isn't going to admit that.]
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[ he rests his elbows on the top of his desk, chin in his palms. ]
Have you talked t' Christina about it, yet? She should prob'ly start thinkin' about those sigils if she's gonna' get 'em.
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[Lucifer wanted playthings. That was all the Anti-Christs were to him -- something to own. And now that Crowley had touched them, Lucifer thought they were his. So, fine. Allow him his childish temper tantrum of idiocy. Crowley would only ensure he could never get what he wanted.
He's silent, for a moment or two.]
Your friend, the Jesus Lion, has sway over Lucifer.
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A Hellhound.
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