Please, Crowley-- Bobby had a small arsenal on him at any given moment. He was a hunter who frequently helped out the Winchester boys; paranoia was the only way he'd kept himself alive for this long. There was no way in Hell that he'd be going around with fewer than three different methods of protecting himself at all times, plus the necessary condiments and accoutrements.
"Look," he said, and the fact that he hadn't thrown salt or holy water in Crowley's smug face should've been enough for a medal, "I ain't here to get into a pissing match with you."
Which implied that he was there for a better reason than drawing the short stick or losing a bet.
"I know you by now, you son of a bitch. What's your angle?"
Because there was no way that Crowley would be here just for shits and giggles. He never did anything if it wouldn't benefit him some way in the long run, especially not something that involved himself or the Winchesters. And the less Crowley looked like he had an agenda, the more suspicious Bobby was of him. So this? The fact like it looked like he was just there to screw with them? It was making his demon radar go all sorts of crazy.
no subject
"Look," he said, and the fact that he hadn't thrown salt or holy water in Crowley's smug face should've been enough for a medal, "I ain't here to get into a pissing match with you."
Which implied that he was there for a better reason than drawing the short stick or losing a bet.
"I know you by now, you son of a bitch. What's your angle?"
Because there was no way that Crowley would be here just for shits and giggles. He never did anything if it wouldn't benefit him some way in the long run, especially not something that involved himself or the Winchesters. And the less Crowley looked like he had an agenda, the more suspicious Bobby was of him. So this? The fact like it looked like he was just there to screw with them? It was making his demon radar go all sorts of crazy.