"Alright," he says. "Alright, we'll ask them to write Earth into the truce." He doesn't sound so convinced, but if he knows one thing, it's that Crowley can talk himself into anything and he can string together enough to pieces go together.

"Will you give me five more minutes?" he asks. "And then I think I'll be ready to go out again. If you are." He does need the practice. He's rehearsing all of Crowley's mannerisms in his head, not sure if he just has no hip bones or if he's going to look like an awkward duckling when he attempts it.