No Event | BYOA

[iustiviri]

Being here long enough one learns the ins and outs of how this weird, fucked up place works. The people it brings in and the people it takes away just as keenly, as if they were never here in the first place. Just like hearing about Sam being in this place yet he'd never run into him. Ran into all sorts of people in a large place like this, and

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[soulkink]

It serves him right, he supposes.

Being far more helpful than a demon really has any right to be. The way he shows up when they're on a hunt with a raised eyebrow and some sort of snide, caustic insult about their intelligence and their hair gel. He proceeds to casually make sure they're still alive at the end of the night while sipping his several hundred dollar scotch. And then, he rolls his eyes and looks at them as if he can't believe they can tie their shoes in the morning

[iustiviri]

The sound of his surname catches his attention and Dean looks over, frowning at the man with the British accent that he doesn't know but who apparently knows him. It immediately sets him on edge as he goes for the knife tucked into the back of his jeans. He hates running into people like this, people that know him but he draws a blank on. Which means they're from some other time or place and Dean finds that rather unsettling.

"Can I help you with somethin'?" The hunter asks, frowning a little. The man strolling up to him is dressed to the nines and definitely not someone they would normally contend with, which means nothing good can come out of his conversation.

[soulkink]

It catches up with him a moment later and he sighs, a roll of his eyes as he straightens the lapels of his suit. He arches an eyebrow and continues to saunter right to the edge of Dean's personal space, a smile curving his lips as if he's just caught on to something amusing.

He decides to leave worrying about just where he is for later. That makes him feel lost, out of his element, and like this strange little hunter might have something over him. Harassing him is so much more fun. And so he tilts his head and looks Dean over in a very unhealthy sort of manner.

"Oh, really? You don't even know who I am, do you, darling?"

[iustiviri]

Den scowls and backs up a little, way too uncomfortable with the lack of personal space and for a moment he wonders if this guy's an angel. The only one to ever pop his space bubble is Cas. His scowl deepens at the once over he's given and he tries his best to ignore it.

"I'm not your 'darling', and no I don't, why would I?" Dean asks, taking at least one more step back just to be safe. "Never seen you before in my life."

[soulkink]

Crowley is just going to keep strolling into Dean's personal space, keeping their proximity just at that edge of uncomfortable, intolerable. And Crowley is all raised eyebrows and wordless suggestion, indecency and perversion that simmer just beneath his suit and the expensive scotch he wears on his breath.

"I just saved you and your Moose of a brother from a head-spinning witch that thought that your skin would make a nice bathrobe not ten minutes ago. Of course I get to call you darling."

He sighed, looked a bit wistful, a faint gesture of one hand.

"But, that wasn't you, was it?" It's a little less certain, a hint that as much as he's playing with Dean, he really doesn't have the foggiest what's going on here. "So, you haven't shot the Devil with the Colt yet and figured out we both missed out on the fine print, hmm?" His eyes sharpened, hazels heating for a breath.

"But you've been to Hell."

[iustiviri]

Dean keeps backing up until he hits a wall and can go no further though he does try to lean back which doesn't really do him any good either, but he's gotta try. A small look crosses his face at Sam being called a moose and yeah okay that was pretty amusing and he can just imagine his brother's epic bitchface when hearing it said to his face

[soulkink]

And Crowley keeps edging closer, until Dean's back hits the wall and he can comfortably (uncomfortably, unnervingly) hover on the edge of Dean's personal space. The way he does it is different than Cas- poor socially awkward little fallen angel- Cas is unaware, unknowing, while the way that Crowley stands just so is full of intentional violation of boundaries. He frowns at the idea that this place pulls people from different points in time, a slightly exasperated sigh. "That's all very nice, but I have a Devil to shove in a box, and two denim-wrapped morons to keep from comitting monster-assisted suicide, so if it would be so kind..." Pause. "No? Figures. Bloody hotels never have a sense of urgency." And yes Dean, he was talking about you an your brother

[iustiviri]

Seriously, what is it with people and personal space. "Look pal, if you're gonna get that up close and personal, you mind popping a tic tac?" He goes for humor, because that's what he does when he's nervous and out of his element, when he tries to break the tension he feels clouding up a room. Except all he feels right ow is annoyance coupled with a fraction of worry. He hasn't met too many people here that were from roughly the same timeline as he was from and he isn't quite sure he wants to know too much of how shit goes down

[soulkink]

"You still don't know how to have a civil conversation, I see."

Crowley gives Dean a look as if he's slow on the uptake when he goes for the knife. They've done this before, afterall, not that this Dean knows that. There's that flicker, shift from one place to another and he's out of the path of the blade, instead catching Dean's hand in his fingers. Crowley's smiling, no real strength in his hands, doesn't want to hurt him. Truthfully, he likes this part, where Dean is still all anger and demons are bad people. His smile is bright and as sharp as the knife between them -- no, this isn't bad for his health, actually.

"You know, Winchester, if you're into the rough stuff, all you have to do is say 'please'." The demon's eyes are bright and amused, and he lifts an eyebrow as if he actually thinks the hunter might take him up on his invitation.

[iustiviri]

He jerks a little in surprise at how quickly the demon moved, a small displeased sound leaving him as he turns to face Crowley and the hand gripping his arm. He pulls it out of the demon's grasp and stumbles back a little, scowling. He hates that about angels and demons, that popping all over the place shit, it's distracting and dizzying. Better than the whole teleportation thing though. At the remark he does however give Crowley a once over without meaning to. Hey, even he can appreciate a good looking guy, and despite being a demon he's just that.

"Sorry, not into the whole torture thing. Been there, done that, not my cup of tea."

[soulkink]

"Not your cup of tea? Is that a fact? Because I heard different, down below. Alastair's favorite. His little protégée." Crowley slipped in close, until he could draw a fingertip down over the hunter's breastbone, his tone low and bedroom with a slow, sensuous blink of jet lashes. He wouldn't have pushed like this with the Dean he knew, but they were trying to save the world, and more importantly, trying to save Crowley's skin. He was aware of the knife, tempting as his proximity likely was to Dean. "Seemed like you loved it, cupcake."

His bright hazels looking up into Dean's pretty greens, curiously remapping the dynamic they'd had. He found Dean fascinating. It always felt like there was a darkness he tried to hide under classic rock and dive bars, and he was drawn in by the dichotomy. Crowley had always played his interest close to his chest, but here there wasn't the incentive to play nice there had been before.

[iustiviri]

"Shut your damn mouth, Crowley." Dean bit out, lips upturned in a sneer. His back had gone rigid at the mention of Hell, of Alastair, the memories he could never seem to bury deep enough, visions when he closed his eyes that he could never fully ignore and the wrath and bloodlust just beneath the surface of his skin, constantly boiling. But he'd always pushed it back, tamped it down because he wasn't like that anymore. What he'd done in Hell, he didn't want it to define him.

He couldn't, however, push down the little shiver at the slide of the demons finger down his chest and after a moment he shoved the man's hand away and edged out from between him and the wall. "Whatever you're after, you're not getting it. This place ain't the Hilton. There's no way out."

[soulkink]

For a moment, it was like he was winning. It was always a competition, always something wagered, something won, something lost; such was the nature of deals, and Crowley was a Crossroads demon. He noticed that shiver, just like he'd noticed how Dean looked him over, and it made him grin, let Dean push his hand away and slip off the wall. Initially he rolled his eyes at that claim- ridiculous, clearly- that there was no way out.

"Don't be absurd, of course there's a way out. I know you're slow, darling, but I'd think even you could find the exit sign."

The flippancy of his gaze faltered a little, however, because the fact was that while he could use his ability to reappear for parlor tricks like dodging Dean's knife, he hadn't been able to get back. His lips thin and he frowned, his hazel eyes looking at the hunter, trying to gauge the exact nature of his predicament here. He's faltering just a little, even as he tries to hide the fact that he's painfully new and simply doesn't get it, yet.

"How long have you been here,

[iustiviri]

"Oh, I have. I've even gone through it and went outside," Dean states, tucking the knife away for now and crossing his arms over his chest. "It's actually kind of pretty. The air's fresh and salty and there's miles and miles and miles of fucking ocean. Wherever this place is it's in the middle of the fucking Pacific or something. There's no dock, no boats. Hell there wasn't even much of a landing and it's about two hundred feet up from the water. So even if I had decided to jump, I'd have no way back in."

He really dislikes having to explain this place to people, really he does, especially to a demon of all people. "After that I've never been able to get to the exit again. Every time I get close I wake up somewhere else or the door I go through leads me to another part of the hotel."

This time he looks a little uncomfortable at the question, but mumbles out a quiet, "I dunno, couple months at least. Six maybe? It's hard to tell time here. None of the clocks work, at least not the way clocks are supposed to."

[soulkink]

Crowley frowns because there's this creeping feeling that Dean might be right, and he doesn't like that, doesn't like being out of his element, subjected to rules he doesn't even quite understand.

"Yes, well, long distances aren't quite the barrier to me they are to you. If I can get outside, I might be able to at least figure out where we are." But Crowley's still frowning, because the way Dean talks about being unable to find the exit after that makes it sound like a rather unpleasant sort of hotel. Not the Hilton, indeed. He's wondering just what sort of room service this place offers, hmm

[iustiviri]

Dean snorts a little cause yeah, fat chance there pal. And no, he doesn't even feel the slightest bit bad for Crowley being stuck here. Though he kinda wishes he wasn't stuck here with him of all people.

"The game? If I knew what the game was I'd be playing it to get the hell outta here. There is no game, that I know of. I've never even met the people that run this joint. Hell, I've never seen any staff, for that matter and for a hotel this fuckin' huge there should be thousands running around but there's not. There's just other people stuck here just like us."

At the mention of a 'theme' he clears his throat and his face reddens some. "Oh there's ghosts and shit like that here, depending on what floor you're on. That's right, some of the other floors, the whole floors, have different 'themes' as you call it. Though the main one is, uh, sex."