OTA

[jageskro]

It was like an itch you knew you weren't supposed to scratch. A lot of things had become clearer to Jag, about himself, since he'd watched Hex's videos, and somehow, the closer it came to the time Val would be back, the more Jag wanted to give in to his 'old' habits and do something really stupid. Start a bar in a fight with an arsehole or two, and get hurt.

It was as far from healthy as he could get, he realised, and that was why he hadn't started a bar fight in over a month now. He was in a bar right now, having a pint and trying to resist the desire to walk over to the bastards in the booth right behind him. Their racist, homophobic conversation wasn't making it easy on him. He was waiting for the misogyny to make an appearance, really. He'd barely touched his pint in the last ten minutes and was gnawing on his thumb's nail, feet propped on his bar stool, one leg bouncing.

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[jageskro]

"If you say so," Jag stated, and turned to go. Turning his back on a demon seemed better than the alternative, right then.

[sauntereddownward]

Crowley's low, poisonous laughter followed after him, lingering even as Jag left him far behind. He stood in his place, laughing to himself with the blue smoke of his cigarette coiling up around his head like a halo.

He wondered what the odds of stumbling across they gypsy boy again were in a city the size of London.

Fortunately for Crowley he was exceptionally lucky at times.