You’re a demon. You fell ages ago, but stayed up on Earth instead of going to Hell like the rest of your kind. You’re in Soho, mostly just hanging around when you run straight into a tall man with red hair and sunglasses. You quickly apologize to him before you recognize him— Crowley, the demonic traitor— and go quiet. He looks at you with an absent expression, looking unamused. “You alright, there?”