demonicmiracle | (duplicity) ic contact

[Loud barking greets Crowley from the other side of the door, and seconds later it opens to Blade, looking a little more filled out than the last time he saw him. Apparently, the dog opened the door, because Cullen's voice comes from further within the house.]

I'll be out in a moment! Make yourself at home. [And then...] Blade, remember what I said about jumping.

[The mabari huffs a mock growl, eyes Crowley up and down with his nose going ninety to nothing, and starts off toward the living room in a heavy click-clack of thick toenails.

The place is much less chaotic looking without tables laden from caterers, lived in but far from messy.

Just a couple of minutes later, Cullen emerges, dressed for the weather and the place, and not wearing his sword.]

Ready then? Offer you anything before we leave?

I'd like to see him try to jump at me.

[There's no missing that once over, and Crowley playfully flicks a serpentine tongue out at Blade, before following him into the living room. Once there, he snaps his fingers to make a pigs ear appear in the air, letting it float around for a bit before giving it to Blade.

He's leaning a hip against the back of the sofa when Cullen appears, and resists the urge to arch an eyebrow at the outfit.]

Ready as I'll ever be to spend an evening with a man dressed like an economist.

[In one snap, it's gone as though it never was, a single crunch to mark its passing. The dog's stub tail wags hard enough to take his hindquarters with it. He lets out a deep throated chuff bark and moves to flop onto a sheepskin bed close to the currently dark fireplace.]

So very sorry you missed my depressing week of black. All in the laundry now.

[He snags his keys from a bowl near the door and calls out to somewhere deeper in the house.]

I may be late! Just check Blade's water bowl before bed, if you don't mind?

[He heads out to eye the car with some mistrustful trepidation.]

Black's stylish, not depressing.

[He makes a face at Cullen before starting back towards the front door, slipping out easily to wait by the car.

He pauses with an arm on the door, noting that trepidation.]

If I had to bet, I'd say you'd be thrown from a horse at least once in your life, and I'm sure you didn't let it stop you getting back on again, did you?

Horses get attitudes about that sort of thing if you allow them to get away with it.

[Cars...well, it looks almost as though he suspects it could get an attitude, too, the way he approaches it somewhat stiff legged, like a dog with its back up.

He opens the door and folds himself in quickly, before he can change his mind.]

That's why they're awful animals.

[Despite the fact it isn't the Bentley, Crowley looks utterly at ease in the car, as if he's perfectly suited to it.]

Put your seatbelt on. [He often doesn't bother, but he will now, putting it on mostly so Cullen can watch how he does it.] If we come to a sudden stop, it'll freeze up. Like this. [He makes a fist around his own seatbelt, giving it a hard yank to demonstrate the locking mechanism.] See?

I don't know that I'd call them awful. Certainly some of them are, but that can be said of any animal.

[He watches then reaches over his shoulder to do the same. It takes a couple of tries to get it to latch properly.]

That would have been helpful, except I was sitting in the back.

[He glances over his shoulder toward the center of the backseat, not seeing any of the shoulder straps like this one there.]

[In the interest of not getting into a twenty minute tirade about horses, he just shakes his head, nose scrunched up in obvious dislike.

Horses are bad.]

They've got 'em in the back. I think they tuck them away in these cars 'cause they're expecting you to fuck in the backseat. [He flashes a cheeky grin at the ridiculousness of that, before turning the engine on and pulling the car back onto the road.

Slowly, because he doesn't want to rattle Cullen too much.] Who was driving anyway, that you had an accident?

Maker's breath.

[He's in rare form tonight. Cullen shakes his head and reaches up to curl his right hand around his seat belt. It somehow feels safer that way.]

Jon. It was...well, to be honest it wasn't entirely his fault. It was back when we first arrived, and all that fighting was going on. We wound up being chased down by maniacs with guns. We both jumped into a car. He started driving to get us away from the shooting, and things went downhill from there.

I blew up a building which completely sent him into a panic, so I think we were even when all was said and done.

[He may have skipped a whole lot in the middle there.]

Oh, he's from London, you shouldn't have gotten into a car with him.

[No one in London knows how to drive and that is clearly where the issue was, and not the fact that they were being chased by people with guns.]

Is blowing up buildings a thing you can do?

[This is new information.]

As it turns out, he can't drive at all.

[He's not saying it critically. He can't drive either. It's just a simple fact of things.]

Given enough black powder and time to case the place for structural weaknesses? I certainly can.

[Crowley lifts both hands off the wheel to shrug in a what did I say kind of gesture, though he puts them back on quickly enough, and it doesn't seem to actually effect what the car is doing.]

Right, point. Thought you meant with some of that magic thingy you could do, felt like blowing up a building was a bit much.

Ah, no. A good smite will break glass, but that's from the concussion of the energy, not really the smite itself.

[He'd done some of that that day, too. It was...probably his craziest day in this city to date.]

I suppose this isn't so bad. It's different when you're not fleeing for your life.

[He's still a bit visibly tense.]

[Crowley nods, because that fits better with what he'd briefly seen of Cullen's abilities. He almost asks where he got the black powder from, but figures it isn't all that important.]

Most things are a bit different when you're not fleeing for your life. [He's being very good about not speeding and taking corners carefully, because he's not a total asshole.] S'probably my favorite thing to do, if I had to pick.

[Not counting like, being with Aziraphale, because that's not really an activity.]

Fleeing for your life? You're an odd one, Crowley.

[He manages to hold a straight face all of five seconds before the facade cracks.]

I enjoy riding, if I don't have to be somewhere.

Well...

[This time he just shrugs with his shoulders, so he doesn't have to take his hands off the wheel.]

See, driving's like riding, except there's no blasted horses involved. Nice cushioned seats, instead. And music! Horses don't come with music.

I don't know. I rather enjoyed singing to my horses on long trips.

[He glances at him sideways. He really, really doesn't like horses, does he?]

What's your history with them? Do they not like demons or something?

That's more of an incentive not to get horses involved.

[He's a good friend.]

They don't like me, and they're awful to ride, leaves you with a sore arse for days, especially before humans figured out proper saddles. Not to mention they stink, and they shit everywhere. Cars don't shit! That's a proper endorsement for cars over horses right there.

I've never sung for you. Don't be so quick to decide.

[It's one of the things he knows he does well.]

You just need a bit more padding on your bum. That's all. Cars put that awful...smoke and stink in the air. The entire city reeks of it, almost as bad as the chokedamp in Kirkwall.

Fuck's sake, don't tell me you can actually sing?

[Of course! He's handsome and considerate and he can sing. No wonder Ivy's so fond of him.]

That's what I need, is it? [There's an arched eyebrow with that comment, amusement in his tone.] That's humans for you, can't have something nice without ruining it in one way or another. Mine doesn't do that, though, bonus of being driven by a demon.

I actually can sing, not that I'm offering.

[Crooning to Crowley is not on the evening agenda, thank you.]

It wouldn't hurt. Quite the opposite in a saddle. [Very reasonable.]

Demons of your world really must be very different from mine. Ours would find a way not only to poison the air, but to make people think they wanted to breathe it more.

Good to know.

[Not that he's sure what he'll do with this knowledge, but it's nice to have a few aces up his sleeve every now and then.

Actually, he knows exactly what to do with this knowledge, and it's drag Cullen to karaoke one day.]

My lot have no creativity. And none of them know how to drive 'cept me, and I'm not a fan of having to fill the bloody thing up with petrol like you're supposed to, so I just don't.

I'm sure my lungs thank you.

[One car out of however many.]

Most of the demons of my world don't either, save those of desire and those of pride.

That's what you get for specializing, takes a bit more skill than what the average dickhead has to offer.

[Pretty much every demon falls into that category.]

How're you enjoying your first proper drive? We're almost there, but I could swing around the block a couple times if you're not ready for it to be over.

[He's being a shit.]

I'm not really sure they have a choice.

[He's under the impression it's just their nature, being one way or another. None that he has ever seen have been capable of change. The one friend Solas encountered on the field was both an odd exception and ended in tragedy anyway for the spirit. He shoves that thought away.]

I'm fine, but if it's all the same to you, I'd just as soon you park and we go in.

(duplicity) ic contact

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)