"Well what do you think the Canterbury Tales were based off of? Not that one in specific but..." He trailed off as their foreheads touched and he could feel Crowley's breath ghosting over his face. He was tempted to grab a little inspiration, but that would only go downhill fast in this position, so he resisted.

"With--" He frowned and moved that hand up to his waist. "-- a liberal use of straight pins, and generally avoiding ladders. But they had the sweetest apples that grew over the garden wall and it was heaven compared to barely bread and thin soup. The beer was amazing though. They kept bees too. Nothing like fresh honey. And bees sing very beautifully if you know how to listen." Which he did because he was an Angel. It was what they did. Listened. Loved. In his case far too much.

"Have you ever tasted pure honey, Crowley?"