Crowley hisses in annoyance, and for a moment something more true-to-form shows through his snake scales; something bigger, both brighter and darker, something more like The Serpent, "The" and everything. This is supposed to be his dream, and there aren't supposed to be people here. Ever. America might not technically be human, but he represents something so far beyond Eden that Crowley can barely make the two fit together. It's like finding a McDonald's cheeseburger at the Ritz.

He dumps the remainder of his appletini on America's head. He can always make another one.

"There's your apple. You know you're not allowed in here, right? Doubly so since it's my dream. What are you doing with that poor thing anyway, did you kidnap it?"