[ Blake comes to a stop and allows the contact, but he's not unfurling from his protective space with his hands still pressed firmly down into his pockets. He feels like shit — that binge drinking didn't do him any favors — and he's concerned in ways he can't quite explain, in ways that actually hurt, so Crowley's words don't quite hold the same value.

He shakes his head a little, glaring ever so slightly. ]

You're tellin' me what? Let's make it clear, right here, right now. This is your reform? Your addiction's also your rehabilitation?