Magneto was sitting on a ledge, on a roof top above the ally, almost invisible, due to his powers letting him wrap light and other EM radiation away form him. He'd been following Crowley from a distance for a couple days now. Stalking. He was getting a thrill out of it, if he was honest. Just the hunt. It left him feeling sharp, focused, calm. He really needed calm. The Devil's Trap floated between him and Crowley and he had to admit - he had impressed himself with this. A disk of silver, thinner than a sheet of paper but impossibly strong, with the Trap draw on with iron, about two metres in diameter. If barely had any weight at all.

He didn't answer the call - the threat of calling the dog was a threat not a bluff, and he wasn't in the mood to deal with a Hellhound. He wasn't actually sure if this would work - if he moved the Trap would Crowley have to go with it?

Experimentally, he nudged it forward, gliding silently, just a few feet, slowly.