ofthursday | [IC Contact

[Castiel really barely notices Crowley's wandering hands anymore, giving a small shrug.]

It matters if it occurs again, and if it were something intentionally done.

[And after everything that happened recently, he's being a little paranoid.]

You are the world's largest buzz kill.

[Somewhat tartly as he reaches out a hand to take Castiel by the arm.

And suddenly overly pretentious organic supermarket.]

Food.

[He's about to argue that, but he's distracted by the sudden change of surroundings. He rarely travels by Crowley's teleportation anymore, so it's a little jarring, but more he's surprised by the location.]

What are we doing here?

[He thought they were going to a restaurant.]

Did I ever say that?

[As he glances toward where the seafood was.]

If you want swordfish, you can make it.

[Castiel glares.]

Don't read my mind.

Why are we cooking? We don't need to eat. This is pointless.

I didn't read your mind, you're just easily predictable.

[And Crowley is already off toward the fish.

You cannot dissuade the King once he's had an idea.]

[Castiel just sighs and follows after him.]

I don't know how to cook, Crowley.

Obviously, that's why you're going to learn.

[He lingers, to eye the selection, before he delicately turns Castiel to face the seafood display, away from the butcher's.]

Be a dear and make friends with the lobster while I ensure you don't screw it up.

[Castiel frowns slightly at the demon, then looks at the lobster which stares beadily back at him. He frowns a bit more, holding eye contact with the crustacean, before looking back at Crowley again.]

Lobsters are not capable of friendship, Crowley, and I don't want to learn to cook.

You made friends with a chicken. Don't be a racist.

[As he selects a few pieces of fish.]

Name it Red. We can have him for an appetizer.

It doesn't have the same type of brain function, Crowley.

[And then he pauses, staring at the back of the demon's head.]

We are not eating the lobster.

I thought it wasn't capable of friendship.

[And Crowley gestures to the poor soul in charge of seafood.]

One lobster.

We do not want a lobster.

[Castiel corrects the poor man, who looks vaguely uncertain and more than vaguely wary.]

Crowley. Buy the swordfish and lets leave.

[Crowley rolls his eyes slightly before he slides an arm around Castiel's waist, to keep him from flouncing again.]

He's part hippie.

[To the worker.]

Just the swordfish, then.

[He glares yet again but he's mollified, though he does notice Crowley is being rather... Touchy, especially for in public. But he's not about to comment on it because there's something extremely awkward about it, but not unpleasant.

Instead he just sort of fidgets in place.]

Why are we cooking instead of paying someone else to do so?

Because you fidget in restaurants and I hate it.

[And Crowley lets go to accept his fish before he slides past.]

You can fidget all you want at home.

[Well he can't argue with that. So he'll argue about something else.]

I don't understand why we are going through the effort of procuring food regardless.

The ability to prepare good food is considered a powerful talent in ensnaring the attention of a possible partner.

[He eyes a potato critically before deciding to bypass it, not bothering to touch the thing, before he offers Castiel the tiniest of shrugs.]

Who knows -- maybe I'll get laid.

[ -- which was maybe half true. In reality, Crowley was just enjoying having his body again and wanted to do something relaxing. Being cut off was considerably stressful and taxing -- he needed time to chill.]

[It's a testament to how used to Crowley is that Castiel gives the response he does, without missing a beat.]

Doubtful. Regardless, you said you were going to make me learn, and I have no need to attract a mate.

[For several reasons, some of them more awkward than others.]

Because I want to do something that doesn't involve planning for the avoidance of the next Apocalypse or dealing with insignificant hopes or listening to Meg poison the surrounding populace with her infected snatch, I want --

[And Crowley turns suddenly, to hand him a lemon, with narrowed eyes.]

-- to do something brainless. Indulge me. Hades knows I indulge you whenever you need to do something I don't give half a damn about, like save hookers or wipe away Sam Winchester's moose tears.

[Castiel takes the lemon and frowns at it a moment, before looking at Crowley.]

Last time I attempted to speak to you about Sam you asked me why you should care.

[Just saying. But he just gives his half-shrug.]

However, this is harmless enough. Fine.

Because all Sam Winchester has done is screw up my life and try to kill me. It puts a slight damper on activating the 'caring' center of my brain.

[His tone is even, but oddly serious. Sam is no friend of Crowley's, and after what's happened in the Port, he never will be. He was done with running errands for the Winchesters, he was done being their bitch. And despite Castiel being his friend, he wouldn't pretend to care about them just for his sake. That chapter of his life was over.

But again, the demon shrugs, and he turns away.]

Large land mammal rights activism aside, we have things to do.

[He wants to argue and defend Sam, but he knows it's pointless. And he doesn't want to talk about anything that happened at the moment anyway.

So he moves on.]

Have you found what you need, then?

[Can they go home and cook now?]

Yes.

[Crowley moves toward the checkout line, ignoring the greeting of the cashier in order to just place his items on the belt and slide his card, choosing instead to continue talking to Castiel.]

If you wish to continue your tragedy of the psychopath and the yeti, please do. I do so love hearing the tales of the sick bastard manipulating another poor unfortunate soul.

I had been mostly intending to ask your opinion on when to kill him.

[Not entirely true; he'd been upset in general and wanted to just sort of talk about it, but he also would have gotten to that question eventually.]

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