Crowley watched her for a moment before taking a step toward her. He'd made his point, she'd made hers. And with a little push of intent, he had her in his arms, draped across like a sack of potatoes. The grunt was for effect, because the burden of her weight was nothing to him. She felt like literally nothing in his arms, like she might float away if a strong breeze caught up to them, which wasn't likely inside, but still.
He set her down on the commode and reached over to turn on the water to draw a bath. "You want bubbles or anything fancy, you'll have to do it yourself. I draw the line there."