Crowley and Dan
This whole conversation irritated the demon. He was not used to being in the spotlight. There was still a paranoia about the situation. A tiny voice that told him that this was hell's work and the only thing that kept him from believing it was the mere fact that hell simply lacked the creativity to come up with something like this.
"What I want is irrelevant," he said, slipping back into old patterns. Just in case someone was watching. Just in case hell had somehow learned. But was it irrelevant? "I've been here for days... weeks..." Who counted anyway? Crowley hadn't. "But you know... more food choices. That's what I want! Where is the French bistro? Or the modern five star restaurant with its itzy bitzy portions. I miss watching people pretend that they have eaten enough."