ofthursday | [IC Contact

[IC Contact | Siren's Pull]

[IC contact post for Siren's Pull~]

Oh, you're right, it's hilarious. [Oooh, Castiel, you are the funniest angel in the garrison, don't lie.] Are you still in my apartment or do I have to evict you?

[You suck Crowley you and he are done professionally.]

I'm still here.

Are you planning on returning to your living area or should I clear out a room?

[Because seriously, bro, it's like you're a barnacle on his life.]

I plan to return eventually.

[He just doesn't know when, or how. He knows this isn't going to last forever, though, because it's simply impossible for him to maintain supplying Sam like this.]

Lying doesn't become you.

I'm not lying.

[Though it probably should have been more that he would like to return, than that he would. He likes living alone, but then again, he isn't really alone in a place with that many people, some of which insist on infringing on his business.

Even in Crowley's living room the demon gives him more space than it feels like he gets sometimes in the HoA.]

Of course not.

[And Crowley leans over the couch, eyebrows arched.]

You look like hell.

[He looks up at Crowley, expression flat.]

Incorrect. I don't resemble either version of Hell at all.

It's a figure of speech, dolt, now you're just playing stupid.

[He totally is, and so he just drops it at that with a small sigh.]

I'm aware of how I look.

Oh, good, I was going to go get you a mirror.

[Somewhat tartly.]

When are you going to stop this idiocy?

[He's quiet for a few moments.]

It can only last so long.

Before you wither away and die, you mean.

Which is -- what, a week? Maybe two?

Yes.

[Yes, that's what he means, and though he's formulating a plan to try not to let that happen, he's recently become all too aware it's entirely possible.]

Two, mostly likely. Perhaps more.

[Depending on sheer force of will and if he can back off the amount.]

Try four days. You look like a Brazilian cokewhore. That's how pale you are.

What is a cokewhore?

[He's not going to argue, though. Both because he doesn't know what one is, and because he feels like he really might drop dead in four days.]

[The only response he has to that question is a loud groaning noise, along with the clink of a glass that appears out of absolutely nowhere.

No, he requires liquor to deal with him today.

Must be Thursday.]

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