[ It's sort of last-minute, if you think about it, and while Blake is expecting Crowley to be prompt, it doesn't account for the fact that nothing else in Wonderland offers the same guarantee.
When Crowley arrives, it's to an empty room. Blake has left the door unlocked — ajar, actually — as he intended to return before the demon showed, but he's no where in the immediate vicinity.
If Crowley cares to enter before Blake comes back, he'll find the room rearranged to accommodate for a small table for two. It's more of a cafe setting than a restaurant setting, but John's made the effort to put down a nice tablecloth, some wine glasses, and even a short and simple still-unlit pillar candle.
It's sort of a mix, isn't it? Half formal, half informal, just like them. ]
[ Crowley hesitates, but the door was left open for a reason. Blake's hardly careless.
He slips into the room quietly, peering around, but not touching anything that isn't clearly meant for him. Sitting down, he smiles at the candle and tablecloth. They're nice touches and he can appreciate the effort that Blake put into it.
Really, he's still buzzing from that kiss and he lets himself sit there and think on it while he waits.
[ Don't think on it too deeply, because everything means something, but guessing is also not a guarantee.
It's not long at all before Blake's backing his way through the door, two covered plates occupying his hands, two bottles of wine tucked under his arms. A glance over his shoulder confirms his suspicions and he taps the door closed with a foot as he speaks up. ]
Didn't expect to be late, sorry. Take it you haven't been waitin' long?
[ For his part, John's considerably more casual. He's not dressed up at all, in fact. He's wearing a solid t-shirt and a nice pair of jeans, some pristine shoes, a belt... It's actually so much less than he goes for on any normal day, it might look like he's gone to no effort at all. ]
[ The help is much appreciated and Blake nods his thanks before setting down both of the plates. Almost immediately, he lifts off the lids and sets them aside. Thankfully, it's all still warm. ]
Mushroom risotto with rosemary pork.
[ In that meal, at least an hour of multi-taking, because Blake couldn't leave that risotto sit. What's it people say? You don't need to add salt to risotto if done properly, because it should be flavored with the salt of hard work and sweat from the brow. ]
Go ahead, eat. [ He gestures for Crowley to sit and then meanders off to find a corkscrew. ] The wine's white, but I don't know shit 'bout pickin' 'em, so hopefully it's not awful.
No, but I hope that's not the only reason you invited me.
[ With Blake seated, he finally takes a bite of the risotto and flashes Blake a smile as he swallows. It's delicious, but then it figures that Blake would be a good cook. ]
If it was the only reason, then I wouldn't've went to the trouble.
[ He goes about pushing his food around before testing a bit and then sitting back to savor the taste. It's been ten years of practice, ten years making the effort for singular payoff, but Blake's determined not to limit himself to Taco Bell and Lean Cuisine. ]
I do wanna talk 'bout the trap, though. What you've got planned and who's gettin' involved.
I'm still trying to pool what we've got as far as planning goes. We have to figure out if there are better materials from other worlds that the closets can provide and I'd like more magical warding than just what I can provide.
I'm talking to a few people. Martha and Sam knew about my idea before and I think they'll both help. I'm working on some of the others from my world and a few others. Nothing concrete yet, but we've got some good ideas floating around.
[ Blake nods slowly and takes a bite of the pork, chewing it thoughtfully the whole while. Finally, after what seems like too long, he speaks up again. ]
That's fair. [ Not that he likes it. If he had his way, of course he'd be the first in line. He's only died a couple of times, and better him than anyone else. ] So, what can I do?
[ He needs to plan ahead, needs to understand where to put his focus. Especially if they're going to make a difference as early as possible. ]
For now? Help me research, see if you can get people on board who I can't.
[ He takes a sip of the wine, content that Blake's agreed to drawing straws. The wine isn't the best he's had, but it's not half bad and it goes well with the food. ]
[ Following suit, Blake takes up his own wine and takes a sip. He might have preferred beer for this, but it was something of a compromise. And easier to get serious over.
After a sip, he takes on something far more serious, and maybe a bit more pressing. ]
A friend of mine was killed. Very recently. I need ears to the ground for info on that, and an eye on the other Crowley. [ And then, maybe a little less intensely. ] And if you wanna watch my back while I look into it, wouldn't say no.
[ He puts his glass down, concerned look slipping onto his face, even if it's mild. He doesn't like the idea that anyone else might be sniffing around Blake with intent to hurt him. ]
And I don't trust the other Crowley. He used to be an angel and I don't trust a single one of those feathered bastards. Who died?
[ The other Crowley hasn't given Blake any reason to be wary other than his warning about what's to happen after catching who was responsible for the mummified young man. Nevertheless, he wants to make someone else aware that he has concerns. ]
Jesse Pinkman. He's— [ Blake frowns. He'd seen the future of Jesse and it hadn't pleased him. He's seen the aftermath of this, too, and it hadn't pleased him, not at all. ] He's a good kid. Dunno who'd wanna hurt him.
I don't know him, but I'll keep an ear out for anything. If you have any leads, I do have spells for listening to people, among other things. You just tell me what you need done and if I have a way to do it, it's yours.
[ And he means it. Blake is worth expending a bit of effort, especially if it will keep Blake safe. ]
[ The offer is noted but goes unanswered for now. Blake has his own ways of listening, his own ways of getting information, but if too much time passes, he's not beyond considering it. ]
He was mummified and left in the library. For Evelyn, I'm sure. She called me right after she discovered the body. There was sand everywhere.
[ Crowley can't help the surprised look on his face, because that's downright macabre. If it hadn't been something that Blake is left to deal with, he might have been impressed, but as it stands, he's angry and his grip tightens on his cutlery. ]
Is there anyone who might have had it out for your friend or any of his associates?
[ There's a tightness to his voice now, like he's on the verge of something. ]
Was he missing for very long? That's a lot of work... sounds like something inhuman did it. A witch, at least, if not a powerful creature.
[ He's already going through his mind to see who can do it and who would out of the people he knows are here. There are at least a few people from his own world. ]
Couldn't've been long, no. Couldn't've been a whole day, even, 'cause this was his first death.
[ He points a fork at Crowley and leans forward. ] Don't share this with anyone, okay? The stuff I'm 'bout to tell you. [ And knowing Crowley will keep his word on that, Blake moves straight on. ]
They went through all the typical procedures for mummifyin' something, from the research I was able to do. Sewed his eyes open, though, and turned him into a goddamn planter. Pretty sure there's a lotta clues, but not any of them're sayin' "inhuman" to me.
Well, if they fully mummified him, then it's a time-consuming process, but beyond that... most humans aren't great people, but they're usually not that twisted, darling. Things are a bit different for the rest of us. We aren't wired the same way.
[ Of course, Crowley's wires are incredibly crossed right now. His wiring is somewhere between human and not. ]
And it's not just demons. Angels aren't exactly the most sensitive of creatures, either. There are any number of creatures here who would have no compunctions about doing something like that. Angels, demons other than Meg and myself, vampires and werewolves and a bloody Leviathan.
All I'm sayin' is that angels, demons, whatever, don't seem to be all that interested in playin' games like that. If Jesse meant somethin' to Evie, then yeah. Beyond that, can't think of anyone that'd have issues with Evie, which is why I think it was meant for her, not to scare her, but excite her.
[ Blake returns to his food, talking around it as he goes on. ]
What efforts would you go to? Don't see you takin' the time to learn how to properly mummify a body. Don't see you takin' the time to wrap 'im up, put out the sand, fill 'im with plants.
If it was about makin' either of 'em pay, then why break Jesse's neck? Why not somethin' more gruesome? Why not more sufferin'? For that matter, why take the time to do any of that?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
action;
When Crowley arrives, it's to an empty room. Blake has left the door unlocked — ajar, actually — as he intended to return before the demon showed, but he's no where in the immediate vicinity.
If Crowley cares to enter before Blake comes back, he'll find the room rearranged to accommodate for a small table for two. It's more of a cafe setting than a restaurant setting, but John's made the effort to put down a nice tablecloth, some wine glasses, and even a short and simple still-unlit pillar candle.
It's sort of a mix, isn't it? Half formal, half informal, just like them. ]
action;
He slips into the room quietly, peering around, but not touching anything that isn't clearly meant for him. Sitting down, he smiles at the candle and tablecloth. They're nice touches and he can appreciate the effort that Blake put into it.
Really, he's still buzzing from that kiss and he lets himself sit there and think on it while he waits.
It has to mean something. ]
action;
It's not long at all before Blake's backing his way through the door, two covered plates occupying his hands, two bottles of wine tucked under his arms. A glance over his shoulder confirms his suspicions and he taps the door closed with a foot as he speaks up. ]
Didn't expect to be late, sorry. Take it you haven't been waitin' long?
[ For his part, John's considerably more casual. He's not dressed up at all, in fact. He's wearing a solid t-shirt and a nice pair of jeans, some pristine shoes, a belt... It's actually so much less than he goes for on any normal day, it might look like he's gone to no effort at all. ]
action;
When Blake comes it, Crowley pushes himself up to reach for the wine bottles so that he can lighten Blake's burden. ]
Not long. What are we having?
[ He places the bottles on the table carefully and waits standing for Blake. ]
action;
Mushroom risotto with rosemary pork.
[ In that meal, at least an hour of multi-taking, because Blake couldn't leave that risotto sit. What's it people say? You don't need to add salt to risotto if done properly, because it should be flavored with the salt of hard work and sweat from the brow. ]
Go ahead, eat. [ He gestures for Crowley to sit and then meanders off to find a corkscrew. ] The wine's white, but I don't know shit 'bout pickin' 'em, so hopefully it's not awful.
action;
I suppose we'll just have to have faith in Wonderland to have good taste.
[ He leans over his plate an inhales deeply. ]
Darling, this smells wonderful. Did you actually cook it? Now you're showing me up.
action;
Pretty much always cook. Not exactly interested in frozen dinners.
[ But this isn't his usual fare, that's for sure, and he could have just as easily brought along waffles or cheeseburgers. ]
You gonna object to talkin' business?
action;
[ With Blake seated, he finally takes a bite of the risotto and flashes Blake a smile as he swallows. It's delicious, but then it figures that Blake would be a good cook. ]
Is it about my idea for a trap?
action;
[ He goes about pushing his food around before testing a bit and then sitting back to savor the taste. It's been ten years of practice, ten years making the effort for singular payoff, but Blake's determined not to limit himself to Taco Bell and Lean Cuisine. ]
I do wanna talk 'bout the trap, though. What you've got planned and who's gettin' involved.
action;
I'm still trying to pool what we've got as far as planning goes. We have to figure out if there are better materials from other worlds that the closets can provide and I'd like more magical warding than just what I can provide.
I'm talking to a few people. Martha and Sam knew about my idea before and I think they'll both help. I'm working on some of the others from my world and a few others. Nothing concrete yet, but we've got some good ideas floating around.
action;
Good. And you're gonna let me help, right? 'Cause there's usually a subtext of derisiveness when it comes to that sorta thing.
action;
[ He gives Blake a cocky grin, but quickly goes on. ]
Of course I want you to help. However, I don't want you jumping in to be the bait when the time comes. I know you. We're all drawing straws.
[ Statistically, the likelihood of it being either of them will be low, at least. It's better than the 100% chance of Bake volunteering. ]
action;
That's fair. [ Not that he likes it. If he had his way, of course he'd be the first in line. He's only died a couple of times, and better him than anyone else. ] So, what can I do?
[ He needs to plan ahead, needs to understand where to put his focus. Especially if they're going to make a difference as early as possible. ]
And then I have a favor to ask.
action;
[ He takes a sip of the wine, content that Blake's agreed to drawing straws. The wine isn't the best he's had, but it's not half bad and it goes well with the food. ]
And what do you need from me? Name it.
action;
After a sip, he takes on something far more serious, and maybe a bit more pressing. ]
A friend of mine was killed. Very recently. I need ears to the ground for info on that, and an eye on the other Crowley. [ And then, maybe a little less intensely. ] And if you wanna watch my back while I look into it, wouldn't say no.
action;
[ He puts his glass down, concerned look slipping onto his face, even if it's mild. He doesn't like the idea that anyone else might be sniffing around Blake with intent to hurt him. ]
And I don't trust the other Crowley. He used to be an angel and I don't trust a single one of those feathered bastards. Who died?
action;
Jesse Pinkman. He's— [ Blake frowns. He'd seen the future of Jesse and it hadn't pleased him. He's seen the aftermath of this, too, and it hadn't pleased him, not at all. ] He's a good kid. Dunno who'd wanna hurt him.
action;
[ And he means it. Blake is worth expending a bit of effort, especially if it will keep Blake safe. ]
What happened?
action;
He was mummified and left in the library. For Evelyn, I'm sure. She called me right after she discovered the body. There was sand everywhere.
action;
Is there anyone who might have had it out for your friend or any of his associates?
[ There's a tightness to his voice now, like he's on the verge of something. ]
action;
Timeline doesn't fit for an event, either. And no one else had anything similar happen to 'em.
[ Blake's looking at a very serious investigation here. And it's someone amidst their own ranks that's responsible for this, he's sure of it. ]
action;
[ He's already going through his mind to see who can do it and who would out of the people he knows are here. There are at least a few people from his own world. ]
action;
[ He points a fork at Crowley and leans forward. ] Don't share this with anyone, okay? The stuff I'm 'bout to tell you. [ And knowing Crowley will keep his word on that, Blake moves straight on. ]
They went through all the typical procedures for mummifyin' something, from the research I was able to do. Sewed his eyes open, though, and turned him into a goddamn planter. Pretty sure there's a lotta clues, but not any of them're sayin' "inhuman" to me.
What makes you think that?
action;
[ Of course, Crowley's wires are incredibly crossed right now. His wiring is somewhere between human and not. ]
And it's not just demons. Angels aren't exactly the most sensitive of creatures, either. There are any number of creatures here who would have no compunctions about doing something like that. Angels, demons other than Meg and myself, vampires and werewolves and a bloody Leviathan.
action;
[ Blake returns to his food, talking around it as he goes on. ]
What efforts would you go to? Don't see you takin' the time to learn how to properly mummify a body. Don't see you takin' the time to wrap 'im up, put out the sand, fill 'im with plants.
If it was about makin' either of 'em pay, then why break Jesse's neck? Why not somethin' more gruesome? Why not more sufferin'? For that matter, why take the time to do any of that?
Doesn't make sense.
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