What? [ It's kind of exasperated. ] C'mon, what is that? Don't—
[ Siiiiiiiigh. He is just too fucking tired and achy and grumpy to keep up appearances. In fact, he's feeling particularly like some cymbal-crashing monkey is cymbal-crashing on his head, and that also means he's feeling intensely candid. ]
Just shrug it off, Crowley. Don't take it personal.
[ Crowley lets himself look at Blake again. He schools his face, but he's not sure if he manages it in time. He makes a mental note not to let himself near Blake so soon after he's medicated himself. It's too much.
It doesn't escape his notice that Blake just stopped him from leaving or that he's actually making an effort to... Crowley doesn't know how to really process it. ]
[ Blake stares for another moment, then reaches out and grabs the remote control off the awkward TV stand that appeared at some point in his bedroom. It had been Dean's doing, and after they'd spent more than a few nights together marathoning movies, John guessed it wouldn't hurt to finally accept a television in his room.
He offers out the remote and nods his (aching) head in the direction of the TV. ] Find us somethin' to watch.
[ Which is to say, he's not being kicked out. Anyway, Blake's likely to fall asleep staring blankly at the television, so it doesn't really matter all that much, as long as he doesn't wake up as Crowley's little spoon. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
action;
[ Despite the splitting headache, that makes Blake laugh. ]
Unbelievable.
[ It seems to Blake that if anyone knows something about his limits, it's going to be Blake himself. ]
Wasn't a competition. I was drinkin' to get drunk. To go over the limit.
action;
Sorry. I'm sorry.
[ The apology spills out without thinking and he hates himself for just how much he's shrinking back from an ordinary human right now. ]
Maybe I should go.
[ His eyes are on the door now, because it's easier than looking at Blake. ]
Take care of yourself, darling.
action;
[ Siiiiiiiigh. He is just too fucking tired and achy and grumpy to keep up appearances. In fact, he's feeling particularly like some cymbal-crashing monkey is cymbal-crashing on his head, and that also means he's feeling intensely candid. ]
Just shrug it off, Crowley. Don't take it personal.
action;
It doesn't escape his notice that Blake just stopped him from leaving or that he's actually making an effort to... Crowley doesn't know how to really process it. ]
Alright, I won't.
[ He lets himself smile just a little. ]
Is there anything else I can do to help?
action;
He offers out the remote and nods his (aching) head in the direction of the TV. ] Find us somethin' to watch.
[ Which is to say, he's not being kicked out. Anyway, Blake's likely to fall asleep staring blankly at the television, so it doesn't really matter all that much, as long as he doesn't wake up as Crowley's little spoon. ]