Crowley made a noise through his nose that was somewhere between a snort and a laugh. It figured, didn't it? This bizarre sentient City calling fictional monsters into existence, bringing them to the streets to wreak havoc on the citizens who were just trying to find their way after being completely displaced. Crowley hadn't even been in the City long and he was already relatively ambivalent toward the actions of the omnipotent abstract.
Which was what a city was, an abstract thing. It wasn't tangible. You couldn't touch a city, you could touch a building within a city and so forth.
When she offered him back his sunglasses, both hands came off the steering wheel, trusting his knee to be able to steer decently through the streets. He took them from her, holding them up to examine them. Scratched. Damn it... again. Focusing on the sunglasses for a moment, the scratches disappeared, and he placed them back on his head where they belonged.
Hopefully, she hadn't noticed his eyes and if she had, that she wouldn't say anything about it. Wasn't her business what he was.
He declined the urge to tell her that whether they were in this City or any other city it was always just a sadistic game. One side vying for the souls the other side had tried to lay claim on. Good, bad, they win some, they lose some. And if one thing solidified the fact that it was all a game was the presence of the Antichrist. The pawn that was supposed to end the game and put it away until it was ready to be opened and played again.
A game.
Thankfully, there had been no apocalypse. At least not one that ended the way it was suppose to.
"I suppose," he said, "we are just subject to the ineffable will of this... city."