You moved to London a couple years back to get a kick-start to your career. You owned a little shop on the corner of a popular street, and it did pretty well. Along the years, you came to know Crowley. Sort of. He started off with glares. Then came into your shop more often. Engaged in some small talk. Boom, now he annoys you whenever he wants. At least you don't mind his presence.

Today was a really rough day for you. Everything didn't go the way it was supposed to, leaving you overwhelmed and exhausted. You were about to turn to your old friend, alcohol, when Crowley bursts into your shop. Again.

"I need-.." He trails off when he sees your obvious signs of stress. Tense body, eye bags, a glare in your eyes. Normally he would make fun of you for it. But something in him decides to do otherwise.

"A drink. That's what I need." He finishes his sentence. That wasn't really what he wanted. Just what he thought you needed.