This was one of the weirdest damn places he had ever been, and Crowley had been to a lot of strange places, with strange people, and strange happenings. But like almost every place he ever found himself more than once, there was a steady supply of well-made alcohol, which made the steady supply of well-made idiots that were also always present more palatable for him.
Crowley preferred to not get involved in things, if only because that required effort he would much rather save for more important endeavours, ie, his own. Still, the inhabitants of the hotel that he didn't find stupid he would find entertaining, and since he was feeling completely done with the idiots on his own plane of existence, the Nexus was a nice break. And naturally the hotel suddenly decided to have a summery afternoon garden party as if this was a bloody Austen novel. Was Mr. Darcy about to ride up, act standoffish, then walk out of a pond a la the BBC? Oh, if only.
"This is foul," he decided, inspecting his drink, and supremely uncaring of the fact that the person he was addressing he had never met before in his life, or at least didn't care enough to remember. "I should just be back in Hell."
no subject
Crowley preferred to not get involved in things, if only because that required effort he would much rather save for more important endeavours, ie, his own. Still, the inhabitants of the hotel that he didn't find stupid he would find entertaining, and since he was feeling completely done with the idiots on his own plane of existence, the Nexus was a nice break. And naturally the hotel suddenly decided to have a summery afternoon garden party as if this was a bloody Austen novel. Was Mr. Darcy about to ride up, act standoffish, then walk out of a pond a la the BBC? Oh, if only.
"This is foul," he decided, inspecting his drink, and supremely uncaring of the fact that the person he was addressing he had never met before in his life, or at least didn't care enough to remember. "I should just be back in Hell."