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Gentlemen Prefer Blondes

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By all accounts, this was the perfect place for a little demonic intervention. The lights were low, the patrons drunk with deliciously lowered inhibition, the locale just seedy enough to attract the right kind of people to bend to Hell’s wiles. Bass-y music thudded out of multiple large speakers, devoid of words or a tune.

Crowley tipped back another whiskey, bored out of his mind. There was no one interesting to tempt; everyone was either the kind of giggly drunk that would wind up half passed out in the back of their ride share, or alternatively the kind of angry drunk that was more up Hastur or Ligur’s alley. He had to do something, though, even though he wasn’t technically obligated to send more souls to Hell. It was just part of his nature, and if he went too long without causing even just a little bit of mayhem, he started to get very itchy indeed.

“Hey, handsome,” came a throaty voice from somewhere behind him.

He turned in his barstool and came face-to-face with a young man who was maybe in his late twenties, early thirties. He was dressed in what all young people seemed to be dressed in: black skinny jeans (not that Crowley could talk, on that point), a graphic tee with the emblem of some band, and some sort of trainers that looked to be old and distressed but probably set the man back a few hundred pounds.

Crowley acknowledged him with an upward tip of his chin before turning back to the finger full of whiskey the bartender had so generously replenished.

“So,” said the young man, either intentionally not taking a hint or just that obtuse, “I’ve never seen you here before. Come here often?”


“A shame, we could use more guys like you. You from around here?”

The young man gave him a familiar once over, his eyes taking in the shock of red hair and traveling with appreciation down his chest and right to the tips of his boots. The look sparked something in Crowley, who stood and tossed several notes on the counter before turning to leave.

“Hey, wait—”

“Sorry kid,” Crowley said over his shoulder as he walked out the door. “I prefer blondes.”