Date: 2007-02-01 08:07 am (UTC)
"Well, it's hard to say with you, isn't it?" Kit replied, her tone still a bit prickly from embarrassment. "I mean, he said that you'd known this Crowley for ten years or better. Not that I'm sayin' you two were... y'know... but I certainly never saw him around."

Kit took one of the proffered cigarettes, holding it out for John to light; she'd thought she'd have quit, years back, or at least switched brands, but she'd never bothered. Everyone had to have something to hold on to, she supposed, and she'd clung to Silk Cuts: no matter who the scent had hung about, no matter where she encountered it, it had never reminded her of anything but John.

John, who was being elusive with her even now. 'The only reason I've still got any memories left at all.' What sort of abstract shite was that? But then, he wasn't telling her because, all those years ago, she'd made it clear that she didn't want to know. In that, he must realize, he'd never failed her.

Kit took a long drag from the cigarette, and tapped the orange embers into an ashtray on the bar. "I'll be here for the night, at least," she said noncommittally. She perhaps deliberately left the length of her stay open-ended, as deliberately as she didn't look at John as she said it. "Adam set me up in a room already... That boy," and, somewhat amused, she shook her head. "Serves me right for listenin' to him, I suppose. Some weird shite of a conversation. But he just looked so bloody angelic."
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Angels and demons / most people wouldn't believe / how great the sex is.

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