If it looks like a duck, and quacks like a duck...

[saunteredvaguelydownwards]

Who: Crowley & YOU
Where: Starting outside his rooms, all the way down to the lake
When: June 12th, morning to afternoon
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Following through on this post!
The Story:

morning; inside the mansion

[On the sixth floor, there is a great deal of what sounds very much like quacking. It isn't too loud, but you know what they say about ducks, and quacks, and the absolutely scientifically disproved theory that they don't echo.

Outside room 616, there are half a dozen boxes. All of these boxes appear to be quacking at various volumes. If you pause to examine this peculiar scene for long enough, a young man with dark, artfully messy hair and sunglasses, wearing snakeskin shoes - at least, they look like shoes - will appear, and neatly place another box down. He might catch your eye and stare, for a second or two... long enough to make it very odd that he hasn't blinked yet... then he might just tap his finger on top of one of the boxes.]

Are you helping with these, or are you just going to stand there?

[The boxes continue to quack. Just what could Crowley be up to?]

afternoon; at the lake

[Later - much later - when all twelve (or possibly thirteen) ducks have been transplanted to the lake and are making themselves comfortable in their new home, there is a demon sitting on a bench that may or may not have been there before. He smokes a cigarette in silence, flicks a piece of bread out onto the water, and watches while the birds crowd around it.

Out of nowhere, and for no reason at all, one of the ducks suddenly disappears entirely under the water.

Crowley seems to smirk to himself.]


--
((ooc: second prompt is open to a free for all. there are ducks. bring bread. tag each other.))