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Feb. 17th, 2019 10:22 pmOn the bright side, Darrow most definitely was not the Apocalypse.
However, in exchange for that measure of safety, Crowley had unwillingly sacrificed a life that he had spent millennia building. Each facet of the life of Anthony J. Crowley had been very carefully constructed, from the shoes he wore, to the flat he 'lived' in, to the car he drove. The prospect of assembling it all again was far from pleasant, but there was no way to get around it. He would have to start somewhere.
Currently that meant starting with the absolute basics. The first thing that would have to go was the terrible excuse for a flat that they had stuck him in and Crowley had spent the better part of the afternoon visiting possible replacements. A few were promising, but overall he considered the selection fairly bleak. It was unsurprising though. After all, the location was hardly Mayfair.
Unimpressed and annoyed, Crowley made his way back to Ocean View Apartments. A newly purchased fern was tucked under one arm and a bag full of wine bottles dangled from the other.* But the successful shopping trip had done little to improve Crowley's mood. It was at times like those that he felt the loss of his Bentley the most keenly and a swathe of Darrow's business class found their commutes rudely interrupted by a series of inexplicable traffic snarls and malfunctioning light signals.
A squeal of tires and a sudden crunch sounded behind Crowley as he walked. It was hardly the most profitable use of his time or energy, but as the drivers got out and began screaming at each other a smile spread over his face. If he was going to be a miserable, irritable bastard then at least he wasn't going to be alone.
*For the time being they were an uninspired collection of budget vintages, but a shock awaited them once they got back to Crowley's kitchen where very little costing less than a hundred dollars was allowed to cross the threshold.
However, in exchange for that measure of safety, Crowley had unwillingly sacrificed a life that he had spent millennia building. Each facet of the life of Anthony J. Crowley had been very carefully constructed, from the shoes he wore, to the flat he 'lived' in, to the car he drove. The prospect of assembling it all again was far from pleasant, but there was no way to get around it. He would have to start somewhere.
Currently that meant starting with the absolute basics. The first thing that would have to go was the terrible excuse for a flat that they had stuck him in and Crowley had spent the better part of the afternoon visiting possible replacements. A few were promising, but overall he considered the selection fairly bleak. It was unsurprising though. After all, the location was hardly Mayfair.
Unimpressed and annoyed, Crowley made his way back to Ocean View Apartments. A newly purchased fern was tucked under one arm and a bag full of wine bottles dangled from the other.* But the successful shopping trip had done little to improve Crowley's mood. It was at times like those that he felt the loss of his Bentley the most keenly and a swathe of Darrow's business class found their commutes rudely interrupted by a series of inexplicable traffic snarls and malfunctioning light signals.
A squeal of tires and a sudden crunch sounded behind Crowley as he walked. It was hardly the most profitable use of his time or energy, but as the drivers got out and began screaming at each other a smile spread over his face. If he was going to be a miserable, irritable bastard then at least he wasn't going to be alone.
*For the time being they were an uninspired collection of budget vintages, but a shock awaited them once they got back to Crowley's kitchen where very little costing less than a hundred dollars was allowed to cross the threshold.
