Naturally.

*Crowley sits on the seat beside Castiel.*

Narrows her eyes.

Concerned.

Things didn't go well for her the last time Crowley and Castiel teamed up.

“A matter fact, I do.”
*I set the glass down and walk over to the fridge to retrieve the carton of chocolate, pouring it slowly into the glass and sliding it over to Castiel.*
“One, chocolate for the angel.”

“Suit yourself, Wings.”

Here I am, on BlueSky migrated from Twitter.
I refuse to call it the third last letter of the Latin alphabet.

*Offers the angel a shot of whiskey.*

Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.

“Hello Feathers.”