"I'm not a bloody wizard," he bites out, pulling his coat more firmly around himself and tugging the folds of his scarf further up towards his chin. Wizards. He can't believe he's having to admit to the existence of things like that.

Crowley hesitates, then pats in one of his pockets to find a cigarette. Through the first drag of smoke he shakes his head, then exhales into the chilly breeze.

"Demon. So, you understand, you really should stop needing me to save your skin."