Crowley was teetering down the corridor, a house plant in one hand and a determination to make this place as worth living in as one could. The plant looked already scared. It had been the sole audience of Crowley's 'introduction to being a good plant'-speech. It had learned all the terrible things that would happen to it if it was to go mouldy or dry. This was a performance that it would not recommend to any of its friends.
Just as he turned around a corner, the light started to dim. Dim and flicker. Stubbornness kept him moving. He was not to be disturbed by such small matters when he finally was starting to turn his apartment into something that was his own. The light had a different idea. It went dark. Crowley did the natural thing: he starting cursing.
"Oh come ON!" Unlike the priest, the demon did not have his phone on him. There was no one worth contacting. It was a thought filled to the brim with self-pity.
A second later, however, a light appeared not too far off. Crowley walked to the end of the corridor to finally find the light source behind another corner. While the darkness was a nuisance, it did not hinder him from going where he wanted to go. Somehow, he just went into the right direction.
The person he saw in the light was the priest. There were only few professions who had carried on with their remarkable lack of fashion taste into the 21st century. Priests were one of them. "Not one of you," he groaned. It was a day made for groaning.