Crowley tipped his head. This man didn’t honestly think that a little gun was going to frighten him, did he? If it was something weidled by a Duke of Hell, like Hastur or Ligur, then maybe. Hell had ways of punishing individuals that this man probably couldn’t even imagine. Or he probably could, mortals were always far more creative than those down below. It was why Crowley didn’t have to put much effort into tempting people to do evil. They did it all on their own in increasingly creative ways.
“What have I done?” He echoed. What hadn’t he done, was probably the better question. “And what do you mean again? I’ve never seen you before.” Or had he. Crowley couldn’t recall. He saw so many mortals that he rarely gave it more than a second thought. There were very few mortals he ever got into it with. It wasn’t fair really, him being immortal and a demon. Them being mortal and human. Crowley liked humans.
Mostly. It was questionable when one human had a gun pulled on him. Though, Crowley was more worried about getting goop on his suit rather than dying. “I think you want to put the gun down.””