1st Drink

[ellen_harvelle]

[She's been here a few days. Castiel knows she's here. That girl who had helped her to the dugout and given her a little bit of help knew she was here, but had no idea who she was.

That didn't help.

She's got a bruise along her jaw and a scrape on her right cheek. And she's got a shot glass in her hand. There's a distinctive bottle close by, but she's not drinking it. It's too early for that. No matter how much she might want to.

Also, she knows her boys are here.]

I got the welcoming committee talk. Don't want to hear the rest of it.

[She rolls the shot glass along the table.]

I know there are folks from my world here. Appreciate it if they'd speak up.

[Another roll of the shot glass.]

If anyone's looking for a bartender, I ran my own saloon back in Nebraska and don't mind knocking heads together no matter how much more testosterone than brains they've got.

[And if you boys don't contact her, she will come find you. You really don't want that, do you?]

Comments

[Video // Private // Unhackable]

[ellen_harvelle]

You must be Crowley.

[Video // Private // Unhackable]

[integrity]

[And, just like that, the thoughtful moment is gone.]

You know, everyone on your side of the proverbial fence has that reaction when they meet me. It's never 'What's your name?' or 'Fancy a drink?', it's always 'You must be Crowley.' Do I honestly radiate that much of a presence that I can go without a proper introduction? Just once I would love to have someone from our idiotic universe to ask my name instead of being a presumptuous twit.

[Crowley has a difficult life.]

But fine -- we can do this your way. Yes, I am Crowley, yes, I am the one who gave the Winchesters the Colt, and yes, I suppose I am part of the reason for your unfortunate and untimely death, but really, can't we all just hop on the bandwagon and blame the Winchesters?

[As he shrugs a shoulder.]

It's what I do, it works out marvelously.

[Video // Private // Unhackable]

[ellen_harvelle]

[Untimely death. So she did die. So did Jo. That hadn't just been a nightmare. The hellhounds, that bitch... Jo...

It takes her a minute, but there's nothing she can say, and Castiel's advice was actually listened to.

So she just shuts it off and refuses to talk to him.]

[Offline] 1/2

[integrity]

[ -- oh, Crowley should work on his sensitivity. Oops.]

[Video // Private // Unhackable]

[integrity]

[Not actually expecting a response, Crowley keeps his feed open, though it flickers on and off once. He appears quietly thoughtful -- not out of respect for their sacrifice, that was their own doing, but out of a replay of the day. What had happened. What went wrong.]

-- Meg is here. So is Lucifer.

[The statement holds no anger or hatred, but just a calm neutrality.]

Take your time to get settled into your new home and recover from whatever tragedy you've endured, but don't make the mistake of thinking you have the luxury of being upset. It was a war. And, if it is any consolation, we won it.

[He pauses, for a moment or two, before he cuts the feed.]

[Offline]

[ellen_harvelle]

[She doesn't respond. Not just because her first instinct is to go shoot the smug bastard in the face with rock salt and then boil him in holy water. But because she knows it was war. She knew what she was getting into, and what it might cost them in the end. When Rufus had died, and then Jo...

Being upset isn't a luxury. It's a damn right. And she's earned it; paid for it in blood.

So instead of answering, she just goes and draws another trap and imagines him in it and setting him on fire.]