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A small, disgusted grunt escaped through his nose.
Crowley glared at him until he could no longer see him through the window.
"What excuse does he have today for bothering you?" he asked.
He pursed his lips in thought.
"This certainly isn't upsetting, considering all he's done."
His scowl twisted to something much more deeply, personally displeased.
"That's not good."
He hesitated.
"You should look into it. That's the Right thing to do."
"Someone should check on Klaus. He could be confused," he suggested. He rather liked the lad. He was a bit of a prick.
"Exactly," he nodded. "You should go do that. Get him back."
"Me? Surely you don't think I..."
He sputtered momentarily.
"You're not suggesting I go help."
Crowley screwed up his lips, gave a pathetic whinge, and stomped his foot petulantly.
"Fine," he huffed.
Oooh, Alcuin. Of course. Of course.
"I'm sure the pastor could use some council," he said.
"Do I really have to?" he whinged. "Maybe he'll figure it out on his own."
He huffed again.
"Fine. I'll go. Just give me some time. It's not as if I have the whole place memorized."
"I'll see what I can do," he grumbled...even though hearing the angel say thank you like that has him eager to hear it again.
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