I'm not quite certain I yet understand what has transpired. The apocalypse, perhaps? But if that were the case, I can't truly imagine I'd end up in this space-faring vessel. I feel at a loss. My books... All those years
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[If Crowley arrived any sooner, he might be accused by some of hurrying. That aside, though, he doesn't exactly drag his feet, either, and it's really not long at all before he's sauntering into 3-23 without bothering to knock.]
[And there he is in all of his blue-eyed, golden-curled, frumpy Englishman glory. Crowley's so glad to see him it hurts. But he just returns the angel's weary smile with a grin he hopes is close to his usual trademark smirk.]
It's pretty good to see you, too, angel. So, do you want the grand tour, or would you prefer to skip straight to the liquor?
Where the hell have you been?
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[ooc: to action?]
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Hey.
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Crowley... It's good to see you, dear boy.
[And maybe the tiniest hint of relief.]
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It's pretty good to see you, too, angel. So, do you want the grand tour, or would you prefer to skip straight to the liquor?
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[He steps toward the door.
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So what's the last thing you remember before you wound up here?
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I was just stepping out to go to the market and instead of stepping onto the street, it was this vessel...
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