"Well perhaps I don’t want every girl to "swoon" over me, I am not a musician. I am simply singing a song because I enjoy the words." He said quietly, eyes glued to the floor, looking over his shoes and trouser legs, his hands still pressed together as if he were praying, but there was nobody to pray to.
"I was simply passing the time while the Winchester’s are away on a hunt." He murmured quietly, looking over slightly to see Crowley still standing there. "Do you not have something else you could be doing right now, Crowley?"
"A Winchester, then," Crowley pressed on, amusement turning up the corners of his lips. "More than he already has, anyway." He would hardly be the first one to taunt Castiel and Dean for their close friendship, of course, but he took a certain enjoyment out of taunting the angel. Returning his attention to the book -- it was handwritten in another language, a very rare find, he'd certainly have to thank the Winchesters for it -- he released a pleased hum, flipping a page. "I am doing precisely what I would like to do, actually."
