By then, Crowley's wearing what it takes to fit in, with the exception of a pair of shoes. The floor is cold beneath his feet, but it's better than shoes.

The light in the corridor flickers tiredly, but the room is dark, and passes for quiet. The chair in the corner isn't the most uncomfortable Crowley's ever sat in, and for the moment, that'll do. He's holding himself carefully enough that it doesn't much matter.