"Itinerary yes, memo no." Still, there was no real emotion, his tone bordering on robotic. Because this wasn't about torture for kicks - it never was, not with him. This was about obtaining information. Magneto was quite detracted, emotionally. People had iron in their blood, but normally in tiny amounts. Still, it had made him wonder if the amount was the key. Not the substance.

He walked around behind Crowley, picking up a nail gun and aiming. Not really it's intended use, but loaded with iron nail it would work. He squeezed the trigger five times - missed once, he truly wasn't a good shot when he didn't use his powers - and landed the other four on the back of Crowley's left calf. Two glancing, one deeper, one quite deep.