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Return from SSH #2
For those viewing from the SSH site, Crowley's journal camera is wobbling about as he works his tie off, the couch in his flat coming to view a few times and disappearing again. He leans back on that welcoming cushion with a groan, the non camera hand going to run his fingers through his hair. Fuck this show. His shirt is still in tatters, heavily blood stained from the injuries he had sustained, The tie is also blood stained in places and he holds it loosely in his hand for a moment, his eyes turning with a glare to the camera.
"The least you lot could do is give us a break from these blasted cameras." He mutters, staring into the journal cam. Really. It was nonsense. "Go on then little spies, enjoy the dark. All you're getting for this break is muffled audio." He carefully ties the black tie around his wrist and the journal cam, covering it completely in black silk, like some kind of mutated wrist cover. Done with his task he let his head fall back and just lays there, eyes closed.
"The least you lot could do is give us a break from these blasted cameras." He mutters, staring into the journal cam. Really. It was nonsense. "Go on then little spies, enjoy the dark. All you're getting for this break is muffled audio." He carefully ties the black tie around his wrist and the journal cam, covering it completely in black silk, like some kind of mutated wrist cover. Done with his task he let his head fall back and just lays there, eyes closed.