[ Listen Crowley can only compare him to his vampire girlfriends because that's all he has. Does he want to be compared to Ferid? The guy that ruined his life, killed all his friends, and almost had him kill the last of his comrades? (And recently might even have the body of that comrade? Still!?) Plus he's making it to [redacted] status... anyway. ]
Yep... [ And there's no changing it. History has already written itself and his name nor the name of his comrades are in any books, which only proves that they were no heroes. Forgotten; no one but that vampires who were there and himself know of how his entire squad was killed without any mercy. The memory is there but the faces, their voices, it all feels so far away. He's not even able to properly recall what his best friend sounded like or what he looked like--
Then there's a hand to his cheek, pulling him back into reality and he blinks before the words settle in the back of his brain. Coming forward and making sense in pieces, he's not sure how to react as he's thanked. ] Why are you thanking me? Why...
[ are you glad that we met?
It has to be something shallow. The sex is nice and Aoba already admitted that he doesn't act the same way with his other sexual encounters, it shouldn't have to go any deeper than that.
Too bad Crowley's answer is deep as hell. ]
... You did it already, I think. At least I'm pretty sure you did.
[ His eyes glance down to the other's stomach, dirtied with come and it causes Crowley to sit up and actually look through that nightstand they've been ignoring. There's a few things he recognizes and others he doesn't, but they keep a convenient pack of wipes and he's at least gonna help clean Aoba off. What a good guy. Also don't pry into the fact that he's obviously being vague because he'll give the man the answer he's looking for: ] Physically you can't do anything to me but... I can keep you in my memory. [ That's so damn cheesy. ] That's the best I can do, not being human and all.
no subject
Yep... [ And there's no changing it. History has already written itself and his name nor the name of his comrades are in any books, which only proves that they were no heroes. Forgotten; no one but that vampires who were there and himself know of how his entire squad was killed without any mercy. The memory is there but the faces, their voices, it all feels so far away. He's not even able to properly recall what his best friend sounded like or what he looked like--
Then there's a hand to his cheek, pulling him back into reality and he blinks before the words settle in the back of his brain. Coming forward and making sense in pieces, he's not sure how to react as he's thanked. ] Why are you thanking me? Why...
[ are you glad that we met?
It has to be something shallow. The sex is nice and Aoba already admitted that he doesn't act the same way with his other sexual encounters, it shouldn't have to go any deeper than that.
Too bad Crowley's answer is deep as hell. ]
... You did it already, I think. At least I'm pretty sure you did.
[ His eyes glance down to the other's stomach, dirtied with come and it causes Crowley to sit up and actually look through that nightstand they've been ignoring. There's a few things he recognizes and others he doesn't, but they keep a convenient pack of wipes and he's at least gonna help clean Aoba off. What a good guy. Also don't pry into the fact that he's obviously being vague because he'll give the man the answer he's looking for: ] Physically you can't do anything to me but... I can keep you in my memory. [ That's so damn cheesy. ] That's the best I can do, not being human and all.