Some feathered friends just can't be learned. Friend of mine's the same way. Just can't teach him to tidy up. [There might have been a few hidden meanings to all of that, but he wouldn't be pointing them out. Daft angel of his with his messy hair and unkempt wings. You can bring an angel into the city, but you can't make him presentable. Meanwhile, Crowley was getting a sort of not quite 'feeling' from the kid. Not really a kid, either, he supposed. But to Crowley, everyone was young. This feeling, not quite a temptation, and not quite an invasive search on the demon's part, dropped the demon's eyes to the spilled berries. A small wave of his hand and--oh. The basket in Ben's hand was full again, the spilled berries were no longer scattered.]

Nearly a month? That's a decent span of time to get to know a neighbourhood, I'd like to think. Cosy little place? [He's going to just ignore the little miracle he preformed. Nothing to see here.]

Bonkers? Well, I'm used to bonkers. Bonkers is normal. [Armageddon That Wasn't and all.] Only been here a couple days. Still not sure what to make of all this. Is it always like this?