Crowley's wings ruffled at his question, but he settled himself as best he could, glancing at the Angel before speaking.
"Someting is... wrong, with the both of us. It's... what I have to imagine a human would feel like, getting sick, although We are not supposed to get sick. My feathers are... wrong, my eyes, my tongue... and I'm not acting myself. The past week aside. It was there before, and it hasn't gone away."