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[It's a near thing, but he manages to resist sticking his tongue out at Archer, mostly because that's a little too childish.

He does laugh at the question, though, even if there's no amusement in it.]

That's putting it mildly. My people are going to be real unhappy I'm not where I ought to be, and m'sure my boss is looking forward to finding me just to rake me over the coals for it.

[Literally!!]

[he sets his glass down, leaning back with one arm over the back of the booth chair.]

No shit, right? Mother-- uh, I mean, my boss is probably... hiring some spec ops to find me and Ray or... something.

[...] My boss.

Edited 2020-12-09 17:05 (UTC)

Oh, no need to play coy, I already know you work for your mummy.

[This is his revenge for Archer being mean about Aziraphale and he is very pleased about it.]

[the glass he's holding creaks a little in protest as archer's grip on it tightens, but he doesn't show any other signs of irritation than slightly squared shoulders.]

Right, you know Ray. I forgot. He does love his gossip...

[While he may not have any demonic cheats to know what people are thinking, Crowley's always been good at just watching when he has to, so Archer's reaction is noted and filed away.

But he's not in the mood to actually start a fight or anything, so he waves a hand lazily through the air as if dismissing it all.]°

You can hardly blame him, you're the one that told me you work together. Think he'd have preferred to keep the secret agent thing to himself.

Yeah, 'cuz he's a pussy. Ask him how many times he's been shot that he's still upset about.

[he huffs, but evidently either doesn't have the drive or the energy or both to start something either.]

Either way, my point-- my point is that there's a bunch of new people here that aren't exactly going to go unnoticed, right?

[Crowley gives Archer a look that suggests he's not sure whether he's being lied to, because like.... humans are usually fairly understandably upset about being shot???]

Depends on if you believe we're in an actual town in actual California.

[Which he does not!]

And if the locals are actually, you know, capable of noticing that sort of thing.

Who am I, Thomas Hubbard Sumner, inventor of celestial navigation?

[he's been in california, but was mostly centred in and around LA with occasional romps into the surrounding country. never up into the direction where santa rosita is supposed to be.]

They probably know, I mean, isn't this the perfect set up for a cult?

[That is a fascinating — if slightly inaccurate — reference, but Crowley doesn't care enough to correct him. He also doesn't care enough to confirm that he actually did check their location by celestial navigation and found they are roughly where they've been told they are. That doesn't mean it's real.]

Doesn't feel like a cult, the locals aren't scared enough.

[He has... an unfortunate amount of experience with cults, because Hell is almost always fond of them.]

And they're all too good at pretending, none of 'em have slipped up for even a second, that's hard to buy.

...True. [he admits that like it's hard-- which it is, in a way. crowley has the better point than him. annoying.] What do you reckon then, Thomas Magnum?

[Crowley considers that question for a moment, regarding his drink while he decides how honest to be.

Archer has already seen him attempt to use blood magic, so he can't exactly pretend he's normal. And also, no one will believe Archer if he tries to spread rumors.]

For my money, it's some kind of pocket dimension. I've got a... vague understanding of the theory, but not the application.

[He figures they're presently outside time, which is something he could do, if only for a short time, but he's never tried it before, doesn't know what it would look like.]

What I do know is we should be terrified of whatever has enough power to do this.

[he has, but archer waved october off as just a fever dream. he doesn't remember november in the town and-- if he's being honest with himself (which he rarely is) then his relationship with reality has been... not great since he woke up.

if he even did.

but that's a problem for another day.]

Because that's more plausible than a cult!

Sorry, weren't you just telling me you'd been to space?

[Like that is equally as far fetched as pocket dimensions, because as far as Crowley knows, random people don't just go up to space, and there's no way any government program let Archer be an astronaut.]

Anyway, isn't about plausibility, it's about what makes sense with how this place is and what it's done to us.

Yeah? That's just aerodynamics. Not... quantum whatevers.

[you know, he and the others technically qualify as astronauts, but not one of any particular skill. their training lasted... a couple days, at best.

archer looks away for a moment, then winces.] Uh, yeah, Ray didn't always have a prosthetic. It used to be, like... a proper robot hand. Also, his legs? So I don't really know how they managed to get those out. Like, the hand would just be--

[he mimes holding and swinging a fire axe, making a whoosh, crkk noise to pantomime cutting a hand off.]

--But the legs? I don't know. Kind of sucks for him. [...] And me! Mostly me. You have no idea how goddamn annoying it is to have... half an agent that could help me with stuff around here.

Right, but if you'd told that to someone from a couple hundred years back, it'd sound like as much nonsense as different universes does.

[And okay, that's science, not mystical bullshit like what Crowley is thinking, but he figures the basic point still makes sense. Not understanding something does mean it isn't possible.

His eyebrows go up as Archer explains about Ray, feeling a slight moment of empathy for the guy, considering he's also missing limbs and had his experience of the world fucked up. He can still get around fine without his wings, doesn't need a cane or would have to deal with an old fashioned prosthetic, but it's disturbing, not feeling them.]

Probably would be wise to never say that to his face, m'sure this is annoying enough without you calling him half of anything.

[He is... curious though, if Archer was just deflecting there out of fear that someone might catch him giving a shit about someone else.]

They'd also probably lose their minds if you gave then a single dorito, so you know, whatever.

[it's not time travel. they haven't fucking time traveled. that's literally impossible and not something archer would imagine could happen outside of his coma dreaming.]

Already have. [he makes a face.] We actually have about one leg between us, so, y'know.

[this is... actually kind of a show of trust, in archer's own way.]

[It genuinely takes him a second to recall what a dorito is. Most of his understanding of food is based on what Aziraphale eats, and angels don't eat doritos.]

That was the first thing you thought of?

[He's like, impressed by the way Archer's mind must work. Truly fascinating. Hell should study him.]

You're rather spry for a bloke with less than one leg.

[He can see the gesture for what it is, which is why he's being somewhat more gentle about his curiosity. There's an opening there for Archer to explain, or he can brush it off with a joke. As much as Crowley would like to know, it doesn't serve any purpose right now, so he can let it go if he has to.]

Yes?

[archer leans back with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. it his trust for crowley comes from the similar personality read and how he's been so far-- ironic that he'd trust a demon, right? not that archer knows crowley's true nature.

maybe he just kind of needs someone to talk to about all this, too. probably not that. hopefully not that.]

I got shot three times in the stomach and drowned. Coma for three years. Kinda stupid, because I've been shot way more than that and none of the others put me in a coma, but whatever.

[Well, this is a thing that's happening.

Crowley isn't incapable of feigning sympathy, he's had to do jobs for Aziraphale as part of the Arrangement often enough that he's learned how to come across as nice and kind and comforting, should he have to. Somehow, he doesn't think that's what Archer particularly wants.]

It'd be the drowning that did it, awful business, that. [Speaking from experience.] Your luck is a bit shite, isn't it?

[as usual, snake boy is dead on.]

Sucked all three times. [jesus, he's really drowned that many times? archer doesn't even know he has one more in his future.] But anyway, what kind of a total pussy would I be if I died just because of that? A huge one.

[he drains his drink, signaling for another.]

Anyway, Ray's is worse. Have you seen him? Seriously.

[How is Archer still alive? Questions that will haunt Crowley.]

I wasn't aware that dying in a particular way made you a pussy.

[Just to be a shit, he mimics Archer's accent on the word, since it's so awfully American.]

Mm, well, you're entitled to your opinion.

[Neither agreeing nor disagreeing, because he thinks that's what will annoy Archer the most.

#friendship]

Dying at all makes you a pussy. I guess... unless it's old age...

[oof ouchie his heart clenches briefly at that. woodhouse...]

It-- Crowley? It is. Believe me. It is.

I'd have thought you'd be the type to want to go out in a blaze of glory.

[From what he's observed so far, Archer has the ego and self-destructive streak to be exactly that sort of man.]

Half that bad luck wouldn't be your fault, would it?

[Just saying.]

[he doesn't answer that; archer's relationship with his mortality and how much he gives a shit about it is far too complicated.]

Heh. He said it was all my fault, huh? Yeah, they sure do like blaming things on me.

[because most of the time they are his fault]

[The lack of answer says plenty, really.]

Nah, was a lucky guess, you just seem the sort to make everyone else's life difficult.

[Harsh but perhaps fair, since Crowley is... also that sort of person, though with more intent. It's part of being a demon.]

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