"Goddamnit, Crowley," she snapped, fighting with the not-entirely-contradictory urges to smack him in the back of the head and give him a hug.
She had no idea, of course, what was going on his head. From where she was standing, one of her two closest friends had just decided to be gratuitously cruel, really cruel, to the other for no reason other than --
-- the fuck. He couldn't possibly be jealous, could he? Jealous of her friendship? Jealous of the things she and John might have thought but didn't do? (And for Cayce, the not-doing, the refusal to follow the bodily urge, was one of the things that separated humans from animals, so she didn't see it quite the same way as Crowley.)
Jesus Christ. Men.
And then she did say it, because what the hell did she have to lose. "I thought you were better than that," she said. "I knew you liked to hassle people, but I didn't think you were cruel."
no subject
She had no idea, of course, what was going on his head. From where she was standing, one of her two closest friends had just decided to be gratuitously cruel, really cruel, to the other for no reason other than --
-- the fuck. He couldn't possibly be jealous, could he? Jealous of her friendship? Jealous of the things she and John might have thought but didn't do? (And for Cayce, the not-doing, the refusal to follow the bodily urge, was one of the things that separated humans from animals, so she didn't see it quite the same way as Crowley.)
Jesus Christ. Men.
And then she did say it, because what the hell did she have to lose. "I thought you were better than that," she said. "I knew you liked to hassle people, but I didn't think you were cruel."