"Perverse I'll believe willingly, but an imp?" His hand has found his arm, above the elbow, is rubbing at it (scrubbing, really, and rather hard, considering that it hasn't been given any instructions to do so), and his eyes are distant, just barely too wide, voice absent; his thoughts haven't yet moved from Phibrizzo to Crowley. "Likely you've seen more of Clowley-san than I, but he struck me as having a molasses heart."