Drink Count: 33 || Just when everthing seemed to be alright...

[eyesofaserpent]

[Aziraphale is gone again. Crowley had woken up one day to find the bed empty and cold beside him. Aziraphale wasn't in the house and a quick drive over to Kramden Street revealed that the angel was once again a drone. Aziraphale said he wouldn't leave. He should have known better than to listen to the angel's lies. Everyone leaves.

The demon, with his one pristine white wing, is not okay. He gets through each day, but really his heart is broken. His earlier fighting spirit is almost dead. How many of his friends are even left in this place? Integra, Death, and Sniper he knows are still okay, but is there anyone else?

He should have known better. He should never have allowed himself to care.]


A. [About Town: All Day]

[Crowley wanders about trying to find people he recognizes, hoping to find them of sound mind. He knocks on doors and goes to the park. There is still a faint hope that there are others that are okay.]


B. [Olney's Tavern: Evening]

[Crowley's usual enthusiasm is just gone He makes the drinks ordered and doesn't try to get the drones excessively drunk.]


C. [852 Goldberg: Night]

[Crowley hasn't been sleeping, instead sitting up with the television on and a never ending bottle of burgundy. This night is no exception.]

Comments

C: Home

[est33medpouncellor]

You probably don't really recall your not-daughter at all well Crowley; fact is, same for her. Did you notice her new dead-white-eyes regain? Probably not.

You've both lost someone though. Which is why she's slowly toeing down the stairs to peer over at the light of the TV, watching in silence for a bit. The stairs probably creak to be honest- you might have heard her.]

B

[bye_to_yer_head]

Yer not lookin' so good mate.

*In all honesty, neither is Sniper. He hasn't slept or eaten in days, sustaining only on alcohol for longer than was healthy.*

A

[bread_goes_bip]

[There will be no dancing around this]

Okay, what is it?

B

[demonhunting]

[Sam's just walking in after a hard day's work of teaching--hey, no one ever said it was easy. He slides into a counter seat.]

Beer, please.

[If Crowley can sense it, something's off about this customer. Like...not quite completely human, something that Sam has no idea about.]

C. [852 Goldberg: Night]

[enpatsushakugannouchite]

You don't look good.

[ Shana says, walking up with no real degree of subtlety. ]