Crowley wasn't sure how he felt about the idea of Kol being awake since he had been. His usual attitude, to brush everything under the carpet, to pretend nothing got to him, didn't seem quite right for that. That Kol had actually bothered to show he was awake and not roll right over and go back to sleep, did that mean something? If so, what did it mean? And was Crowley even remotely drunk enough for such thoughts? Probably not, on that last one. "Well, sorry anyway." Easiest way to deflect, a safe answer. Right?
"He's Lucifer, he..." Crowley trailed off, not entirely sure how to explain the connection between the fallen archangel and the 'children' of his realm. "He won't know where I am. Location and all, physically I mean. But that doesn't mean he can't get into my head like this, if he wants to. Or maybe it wasn't even him to start with and the wonderful imagination I have that makes making deals so much fun just blessed me with the most wonderful of images." Images like Kol on the rack. Suffering the torment of Hell.
"What, so you reckon you can get in my head?" Crowley had to admit he was intrigued by the idea. Even if the concept of letting someone else have that level of control, over his very subconscious. It was terrifying. And yet this was Kol, and Crowley was, as much as he was ever, able to trust him.
He took back the bottle, this time moving back over to the bed to get it. Since he didn't need to worry about waking Kol after all, he let himself sink back down against the pillows. "Maybe next time I should wear you out more, make you less likely to be woken up by all this mess."