Normally, Crowley would have been glad for that glimpse of the sass he had so come to associate with Kol, but in his current state of mind, he wasn't exactly in a place to appreciate it.
And the truth was, he wasn't angry at Kol. No, he was angry at the situation, at Lucifer, at Hell, at himself for even getting into this situation in the first place and being seemingly unable to actually get up and leave when all logic said he should. Not that that calmed his own swearing down either, Crowley the demon, King of the Crossroads, able to negotiate his way out of anything, reduced to cursing and shouting like a human. "Well, I fucking give a damn too so why don't we just, oh fucking hell, fucking shitting hell on a stick." Eloquent. Really.
When Kol calmed down, Crowley wondered for a brief, if panicked, moment if he had turned off his emotions again. Because that hadn't been pretty last time and he wasn't exactly in a rush to repeat it. But, it seemed that Kol was simply being logical, thinking about stuff. And he was right, any action they took now was just going to make them easier targets and make sure Lucifer fucking won, and that thought just stuck in Crowley's throat. So he sat down heavily himself, back on the bed, feeling suddenly weary.
So evading. Escaping. Holding things at bay until Team Good Guy figured out a damn plan to stop the Apocalypse, once and for all.
"Just promise me one fucking thing, okay?" Voice low, barely audible, even as he looked at Kol with a fierce intensity. "If he gets me, if Lucifer manages to slip past all the fucking wards in the world and drags me to the Pit, don't come looking for me. Don't walk right into his fucking trap, and if you could persuade Ruby to do the same, I'd appreciate it. Just..." He waved a hand vaguely. "Let it be. Don't get dragged down with me." He didn't know why it mattered, it shouldn't have mattered, but Crowley just didn't want to see anyone he might care about suffering there next to him.