You knew Crowley only recently, really. But you liked him and you got him to like you. He had grown his hair down to his shoulders, you couldn't help but keep touching it every day, you liked it.

You were in a park sitting on a bench, talking and people-watching, until at one point you, out of boredom, started to braid his hair. He noticed, but didn't say anything against it, but kept talking about trivial things, until after a few minutes.

"What are you doing to my hair?" He asked, looking sideways at you, his eyes covered by his usual sunglasses.