sirenspull_logs | Into the Lion's Den

Who: The Tenth Doctor

universaljanitor and anyone and everyone frequenting Purgatory!
When: February 27th, just before evening sirens
Where: Purgatory
Summary: After Jubilee told him where to find Gabriel and maybe a few other 'angels of the lord' The Doctor forced Rose to help him whip up a few batches of cookies and cupcakes before raiding the candy aisle to prepare a sort of offering in exchange for some information. In other words? Skeptical Doctor is skeptical.
Warnings: Gabriel. .... aaaand probably language and rudeness and general crazy antics. WHO KNOWS! Its a bunch of angels, a prophet, maybe a scattering of humans and meta-humans, and one oh-so-curious alien.

The doors to Purgatory were practically slamming open that night, just a bit before sirens, as a tall, thin, suited figure made his way into the bar with a grin on his face and baskets swinging from both arms. He looked a bit out of place, really, more like he was coming to or from a business meeting that happened to double as a picnic than some bar just before the Darkness was set to creep in.

It didn't take long for him to make a grinning bee-line for the bar, hopping up on a stool before setting the baskets down on the ground, reaching under the lid of one before he came back up, pulling out a wrapped up plate of frosting smothered angel shaped cookies and plopping it on the counter in front of him. And, well, why stop there? Plate after plate came out of the baskets. Cookies and cupcakes and bowls full of candies and chocolates, some shaped like angels and harps and horns and crosses, others simply generic brands of sweets.

Someone had to notice, eventually. Especially as he simply sipped on the banana daquiri he ordered and spun around and around on his barstool, taking in the atmosphere and eying everyone in the bar. He was severely hard-pressed to believe actual Angels were here, but he might as well give it a shot, right? Benefit of the doubt and all that.

"Sorry, hi, yes, hello!" ... or he could just shout at the entire bar. "If I were to ask if anyone had a halo would there be a response? Yes? No? ... I'll even take a forced removal at this point," he paused, then, before holding up the plate of cookies and whoever happened to be looking at him, no doubt like he'd officially lost his mind. "I have cookies!"

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He only jumped the slightest bit this time, just a quick twitch of his shoulder and the slightest jerk of his head to the side, before he took another deep sip of his daiquiri and set the drink down on the counter, swirling his stool around and leaning casually back against it.

"Absolute delicacies, actually! Got the recipe for the cupcakes from a bloke out in Lanchester in 2094, believe it or not. 'The Cupcake Revival!' he called it. 'Course he tried coating them with ketchup for some reason. Must have thought it was red frosting in some of the old pictures. Might be willing to share the recipe, though, considering you're so enraptured," but the grin on his face should let Crowley in on the fact that Ten was being a smartass right back. He wasn't as utterly touched in the head as he seemed ninety nine percent of the time, really. "Brought them for Gabriel, actually. Heard somewhere there was an angel that liked sweets in here."

He reached over, then, snagging a particular cookie from one of the bowls, holding it out and wiggling it in front of Crowley with one of those dopey grins on his face. "Jammy Dodger?"

Crowley stared at the cookie for a long moment before he took it gingerly. He wasn't much of a fan of food unless he made it himself -- hunters had a nasty tendency of putting salt and holy water in everything. But once his fingers didn't burn or react negatively, he relaxed an iota, before rolling his eyes.

"Gabriel will eat anything that will give anyone type two diabetes, he's worse than Paula Deen with butter," Crowley scoffed to himself, breaking the cookie in half, the glass mysteriously gone from his hand now. "And cupcakes of the future have nothing on mine of the present."

Whether or not Crowley was serious, the world will never know.

Spoiler Alert: He was totally fucking serious.

The Doctor would probably sooner die that intentionally put salt in a cookie. If just because he'd find himself munching on said affected cookie absently a few hours later, and combining those two flavors on a far-too-sensitive tongue? Nope. Even if it meant being a bit safer against the demons and supernatural baddies in the Port. So he really thought nothing of it when Crowley took the treat, instead just snatching up his daiquiri for another few sips.

"Paula Deen?" he crinkled his nose for a moment, pulling the name out of his memory and- oh. Well, that did seem a pretty apt analogy. "Doubt that, she looked like she tanned with the stuff."

He was arching his eyebrows up, though, at Crowley's last comment, almost incredulously. "Really? You bake? ... Do I even want to know what demons bake with?" if you say babies, Crowley, he will lecture you forever about morality. And he does mean forever. Snap his neck and he'll simply resume talking once he comes back from the dead, never missing a beat. Teleport away? He'll leave you voicemails and text messages the length of college term papers.

Crowley was busy inspecting the jammy dodgers when the Doctor asked his question. He answered quite seriously as he ate half of the cookie, chewing thoughtfully before speaking.

"I once had an associate who preferred the taste of young children, so I learned how to bake muffins with infant uvulas."

Lilith had bizarre tastes, but Crowley couldn't fault her for that. She was Lilith, after all. You would be stupid to argue with the woman once she decided what she wanted. Head bitch in charge and all that.

"But don't worry, they were already dead," Crowley added, shrugging a shoulder dismissively as his glass of scotch reappeared in his hand, "not that she ever knew that, she preferred them fresh, but I suppose I'm just that convincing."

The look of disgust on the Doctor's face is pretty astounding, considering everything he's seen in his life. But really, he shouldn't have been all that surprised. He did know that Crowley was a demon, so it was only expected that his diet... would consist of something a little more... well. Eclectic was a good word for it. Disgusting and immoral was another. But once again, hellspawn should have told him that one.

"Right, remind me to never accept anonymous baked goods without some testing first," he murmured, reaching for his drink and taking an uncomfortable swallow. "You really are a demon, then? Blimey..." but despite the general queasiness left over from thinking about infant uvula muffins there's really just a note of sadness in his voice, no blinding, righteous anger.

He knew of alien species that considered the flesh of newborns to be delicacies, after all. There wasn't much of a difference, only that Crowley looked human.

"Hold on, should I be concerned with you knowing where I live?"

"I'm hardly dangerous and I don't eat them. And the person who did eat them is long since dead and not here, so you won't have to worry about infants going missing from abortion clinics."

Crowley tossed him something of a flat look.

"I'm not interested in slaughtering, torturing, or anything that would get my clothes dirty, so really, the city is safe."

It was hard not to sound irritated, though Crowley expected the attitude and he shrugged it off rather easily. The word 'demon' had a negative connotation. And Lilith's odd diet only reinforced it.

"Well good!" he says, making another face as he takes another swig of his drink, clicking it down and spinning around to fully face the demon, chewing on the side of his tongue as he regards him.

This is tricky business, he knows that much. Really, he shouldn't be associating with Crowley, not after what he's told him, what his gut is telling him to do. Run, run, run, and keep on running. But oddly enough, he finds he wants to stay.

"So what sort of name is Crowley anyway? British, from the sound of it, but isn't Crowley an Irish name, mostly? You an Isles boy?"

Into the Lion's Den

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