Anthony J. Crowley (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
onlyanapple) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
paradisalogs2012-06-09 06:06 pm
onlyanapple) wrote in paradisalogs2012-06-09 06:06 pm
Entry tags:
Promise not to mind if you go your way and I go mine
Who: Anthony Crowley and you?
What: Mourning lost friends
When: 9th June
Where: The Nines
Rating: PG13 maybe?
Crowley hated seeing the Nines so quiet. It wasn't right. He'd put thinking about the man who used to own this little piece of the castle aside to deal with that...mirror business. But now that was taken care of, he had nothing left but to mourn the Barney Stinson-shaped hole that had suddenly appeared in his life.
He let out a small, uneeded breath as he wandered behind the bar, as he had always done, helping himself to a few bottles of choice whiskey. It was stupid. This whole place was stupid. Barney was just a human, there were billions upon billions like him in the world. It wasn't Crowley's place to actually care about them. It was his place to tempt them, to make their short, insignificant lives miserable and reap the benefits from it.
Even he knew he was kidding himself with that spiel. It hadn't even been that way before he was dragged into Paradisa, and it had only become less true the longer he lived here. But Paradisa was the place where he was forced to interact with humanity on a much more personal level. He'd even made, pardon his language, friends here. And Barney Stinson had been one of his best. No. That wasn't right. Barney was more than that. He'd been family.
The demon flopped down in the chair Barney had chosen and designated as 'for Crowley use only' and sat back, his hand shifting his sunglasses slightly as he pinched the bridge of his nose. This wasn't getting any easier. The longer he stayed here, the more chance there was of someone he actually cared about leaving this stupid place. And it was making him feel tired. And old. Someone, did he feel old.
Normally, he'd take these issues to the angel, who would assure him that this was All In The Plan, or to Barney who could solve anything with a quip and a bottle of booze and one of his dreaded High Fives. But they were both gone. Vanished home to live their own lives.
And so, Crowley decided to rely on the solace of alcohol. His good friend who never, ever left. Or died. He'd seen Yuan's corpse in the lobby, just as everyone else did. It had been a while since the castle had decided to off someone. He vaguely wondered if it was a bad omen. He raised his bottle in a silent toast to those gone before taking a long swig. It was going to be a long night.
What: Mourning lost friends
When: 9th June
Where: The Nines
Rating: PG13 maybe?
Crowley hated seeing the Nines so quiet. It wasn't right. He'd put thinking about the man who used to own this little piece of the castle aside to deal with that...mirror business. But now that was taken care of, he had nothing left but to mourn the Barney Stinson-shaped hole that had suddenly appeared in his life.
He let out a small, uneeded breath as he wandered behind the bar, as he had always done, helping himself to a few bottles of choice whiskey. It was stupid. This whole place was stupid. Barney was just a human, there were billions upon billions like him in the world. It wasn't Crowley's place to actually care about them. It was his place to tempt them, to make their short, insignificant lives miserable and reap the benefits from it.
Even he knew he was kidding himself with that spiel. It hadn't even been that way before he was dragged into Paradisa, and it had only become less true the longer he lived here. But Paradisa was the place where he was forced to interact with humanity on a much more personal level. He'd even made, pardon his language, friends here. And Barney Stinson had been one of his best. No. That wasn't right. Barney was more than that. He'd been family.
The demon flopped down in the chair Barney had chosen and designated as 'for Crowley use only' and sat back, his hand shifting his sunglasses slightly as he pinched the bridge of his nose. This wasn't getting any easier. The longer he stayed here, the more chance there was of someone he actually cared about leaving this stupid place. And it was making him feel tired. And old. Someone, did he feel old.
Normally, he'd take these issues to the angel, who would assure him that this was All In The Plan, or to Barney who could solve anything with a quip and a bottle of booze and one of his dreaded High Fives. But they were both gone. Vanished home to live their own lives.
And so, Crowley decided to rely on the solace of alcohol. His good friend who never, ever left. Or died. He'd seen Yuan's corpse in the lobby, just as everyone else did. It had been a while since the castle had decided to off someone. He vaguely wondered if it was a bad omen. He raised his bottle in a silent toast to those gone before taking a long swig. It was going to be a long night.
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"Why? I can heal myself you know, I'll wake up without a smidgen of liver damage."
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"There's always use for a soul corrupting demon, apparently," he said dryly. "And I'd really rather not talk about it."
That would mean opening up, admitting things were hurtful. That he MISSED people.
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And that was the thing. People were leaving, and fast. People he trusted...well, that number was getting smaller and smaller as the years went by.
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They#d shown up, changed him, then buggered off without so much as a word. It wasn't fair.
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It is how she comforts herself when it came to losing Lilith, Cain, Agent Maine, and all the others.
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"Thanks for the afternoon special," he mutters.
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"Well, if you think you can keep up, by all means..."
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She has a whole set of Paris memories of situations like this real or not.
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