There are 214 bones in the human skeleton

[onlyanapple]

[At first, Crowley wondered if the whole stupid castle thing was over. But no, his room was still...stupid and all the bitching and whining over the journals was still going on. Then, he wondered if perhaps the angel had found a way out. But no. He wouldn't of just gone out and left him there. Which left only one possible conclusion.

Fuck.

Maybe this was the castle's idea of a sick, sad joke. He'd complained the last time Aziraphale left that he'd seen little of the angel before he was sent home. Now the opposite was true, Aziraphale had been the only being he'd seen for the last three days.

Very funny, Paradisa. Har. Har. Shitface.

After a while, he opens his journal to write a message, not trusting his voice to give away the fact that he did, indeed, have a heart and on occasion it was prone to break]

Aziraphale's gone home.

[Three little words, and that's all Paradisa will hear from Crowley for the day. He shuts his journal, deciding to drown his sorrows in alcohol. Knowing, at least for today, he won't be disturbed by people barging in to try and make him feel better. For once the castle would let him grieve for his lost friend (because, despite what Crowley would say to the contrary, that was what Aziraphale was) in solitude]

Comments

[videres]

[ ): Crowley. Grabbing a pen she scribbles down a quick message, knowing he's unlikely to reply: ]

I am sorry for your loss.

[ The "I am here if you need me" is silent, but there, easy to spot if you look hard enough. ]

[save_the_souls]

[He sees this]

Crowley...

[He really hates being locked in the ballroom right now. As soon as he's free, you can guess who he'll be bothering :C ]

[imnot_likeyou]

[Crowley's been there almost as long as Sam has and has probably gone through as many Aziraphales as Sam's gone through Deans. He doesn't really know what to say to him, because he knows that words aren't going to help.

Nothing really does.

And he's still stuck with House. So until that gets all sorted out, he'll just write:]

If you need anything.

[the rest is implied.]

Crowley

[luthored]

[ NOOO WHY IS SHE TRAPPED IN A ROOM NOW?! She doesn't think he'll reply, at least not right away, but she has to say something. She never got to meet the angel, but she'd heard about him, and knows he's been here a few times. ]

I'm so sorry. I know it isn't what you want to hear, but I still am.

Are you alone? Please let me know when you feel like talking. I worry.

[luckyvalentine]

[the farthest she gets in a reply is drawing in a breath--first from surprise, but then she'd intended on saying something with it, really.

But then it just falls out of her in a sigh. What could she even say? What could she really do from here?

So... she ends up not saying anything. She'll just have to be patient--she's so good at that--and wait until she can hunt him down in person]

Crowley

[ironlady]

I am sorry. Let's speak privately when this is over.

Crowley;

[payback]

[... a good friend to rate Crowley mentioning it, huh?]

I'd offer to bring you some wine, but, well.

Crowley

[inafadingcrown]

He will be missed.

[And she doesn't say anything else. She may be stuck in the ballroom, but the ghosts are still free, right? There should be one delivering a bottle of wine any time now.]

[hulloeverything]

[His hearts break a little as he reads that.]

Oh. Oh, Crowley, I'm sorry...

Bee Eff Eff, written

[bro_codebreaker]

[he writes the filter, prepared to toss out some snarky comment, something - ANYTHING - to distract him.

... all he comes up with is to scribble in the start of a game of hangman]

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

One shot for each letter missed. You get a letter, I take a shot.

[because this is how they roll. he can be there without ... being there]