There is a look of muted surprise on the angel's face, switfly followed by a displeased nose wrinkle at the word 'snogged'. "Alright then." He brings his glass back to his lips and takes another sip. "I won't tell you." He'll let his complete collection of first editions speak for themselves.
That coyness falls away when the subject shifts to Crowley's behavior, replaced with genuine innocence as if he's learning about all this for the very first time. "Oh, but... but that's just Crowley being Crowley. He always acts like that." Sort of. The demon is a bit more open with his affection now that Heaven and Hell can't do anything about it. But it's a platonic affection, right? Right.
There's another nose wrinkle at the mention of Lucifer, perhaps in combination with the plush snake. "Well, that's... very cute that you exchanged stuffed animals, but that's not limited to sweethearts. This isn't the first time Crowley's gotten me something. Food, usually, or a nice bottle of wine. He got me chocolates when I first opened my shop, and of course there's the time he rescued my books when those dreadful Nazis double-crossed me. And I've taken him out for meals plenty of times. I assure you, it's quite normal behavior for us."
He sits there, perfectly content in his reasoning, like he has absolutely no clue what that sounds like to anyone else.
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branchandroot
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Date: 2019-10-11 02:28 pm (UTC)That coyness falls away when the subject shifts to Crowley's behavior, replaced with genuine innocence as if he's learning about all this for the very first time. "Oh, but... but that's just Crowley being Crowley. He always acts like that." Sort of. The demon is a bit more open with his affection now that Heaven and Hell can't do anything about it. But it's a platonic affection, right? Right.
There's another nose wrinkle at the mention of Lucifer, perhaps in combination with the plush snake. "Well, that's... very cute that you exchanged stuffed animals, but that's not limited to sweethearts. This isn't the first time Crowley's gotten me something. Food, usually, or a nice bottle of wine. He got me chocolates when I first opened my shop, and of course there's the time he rescued my books when those dreadful Nazis double-crossed me. And I've taken him out for meals plenty of times. I assure you, it's quite normal behavior for us."
He sits there, perfectly content in his reasoning, like he has absolutely no clue what that sounds like to anyone else.