beep
.
The tail arches, dangles just in front of his eyes, and sways softly side to side. The length tightens around his neck, and he stumbles along, shoes scuffing along the pitch floor, holding back his gags at the pain. Eyes forward. Knows what this is, feels the glitter of eyes, thousands of eyes upon them, him.
"Some little birds told me something interesting," he chirps, visage thin, horns catching the light from the flickering hellfire. "Color me surprised when your name came up."
The fear is nothing new, but it's been such a long time since he's had reason to even fear something. Crowley hates it. Hates it. But. He fists his hands at his sides, fights the want to claw at the tail coiled round his neck. He's come so far, so far, and, well, there's no one to blame but himself.
"Ah, Daniel, love," he starts, rasps, croaks," I'm sure it was only something good, mistaken otherwise."
It's like a noose, and he chokes when the spear tip slices forward, stilling naught a breath away from his left eye.
"Don't lie to me," he says, voice flat, and to Crowley's eyes the shadows lick at his heels.
He falters at a loud, laughing snarl from behind them, and screws his eyes shut.
