Fashionably late, as one should expect a demon to be, Crowley wandered through the door a few minutes later, glancing around at the occupants of the room with a feigned look of apology. "Sorry, dears, terribly sorry. There's a War on, wouldn't you know," The words were muttered, vague, the same way Crowley begged his absence from the Angel. Moving to the head of the table, he sat down, looking around.
"Ms. Lebeau, is this all of us? I was simply going to close up shop, to keep us from being bothered,"