"What?"

Crowley scrunched up his nose like there was a terrible smell but really it was just his confused face.

"Are you psychic?"

He took a bite from the stolen bagel, being far too hungry to do anything less.

"Anthony J. Crowley."

A beat, where his mind seemed to wander to something else.

"It's not what I expected, the End of the World. I thought there would be more fire and brimstone, fewer... sweet shoppes and well-trimmed hedges."