[ Too much to hope for, maybe, after everything. A world without eyes on them. However short-lived their intention to stay in it. It's unbecoming for an angel to kick up a fuss about free will, though, of all creatures. It's also unbecoming for an angel to feed an eldritch manifestation, and he's really not sure what the ramifications might be.

He does want to do it. He doesn't expect it to feel bad, setting aside feeling terrible after. That's half the problem.

And the worse the hunger gets, the smaller the part of him worried about all that gets. Which he of course worries about in turn, but only so much, because between all of it and what's happening now, it's taking much less to reach capacity.

Which is all hard to articulate. He's never had to try to articulate anything like it before. Crowley understands already, likely as anything, between being in the same proverbial boat and knowing him.

Still. ]

I want to break you open. I want to pull your thoughts out and rifle through them. Keep all the interesting bits. There would be a lot of those. I know that. Only--

[ Normal openers to present to one's most cherished person in the universe while staring into a mug of tea and pretending to have steady hands. ]

At a certain point, I do believe it's better not to start at all than to find out I won't be able to stop at a reasonable boundary.

[ He's set a poor enough emotional harm precedent in this friendship as it is.

You are both slowly dying in your living room but go off king ]