Bloody Mary

“Oh, but not to worry! While you may have missed out on the title of Grand Duke, there’s no need to feel left out. I’m sure we can still make good use of you around here. After all, there are plenty of entry level positions remaining.” Shax tries to do that thing where you circle someone in order to make them nervous, but Crowley is instead preoccupied by the annoying clack of her decidedly unserious kitten heels. “Tell me, what do you prefer? Janitor? Dishwasher? Customer service representative?” She grins, flashing a horrible row of teeth that would fit better on the sort of creature one finds lurking at the bottom of the mariana trench. “Whipping boy?”

Whatever, Crowley thinks. King of the mountain, bottom of the food chain; what difference does it actually make? Nothing more than a change in configuration. In fact, you know what? The more demeaning the job title, the better! He’s up for the challenge—how low can he possibly go?

“Customer service representative, eh,” he muses. “Now there’s an opportunity I’d be a fool to pass up.”

Shax beams. “Admissions it is.”

–Shax is most certainly not Crowley's type, but she does have her uses.