You were nothing but another human in London. Yet, somehow, you knew quite the demon. Crowley was his name. You heard from him every now and then when he was bored or exceptionally drunk. Surprisingly, you heard from him again on a fine day in the streets.

He was obviously bored again, walking around the streets with you and talking about Hell knows what. Well, more like rambling. Stumbling over his words a bit more. "You know.. I always thought. Back when-.. Well, everything..." He doesn't finish his thought.

You look over to him, confused. He's looking around like a lost puppy, breathing a bit faster and performing little demonic miracles for people to stop talking so much. He doesn't know what's going on. But you do.

He's overstimulated.