[Crowley is, by no means, any sort of good Samaritan. He's not any sort of good anything, thank you very much, but he's never been a fan of unfair odds, which is exactly what the poor woman in the pelican shorts seems up against. She's handling herself fairly well, but she's only human, that'll only get her so far.
There's a quiet snap of fingers, and the three men stop as though they're marionettes and someone has drawn their strings tight. They're not frozen, they're just still, quiet aside from their breaths, unresponsive.
It's not that Crowley emerges out of the shadows so much that he's just kind of there, several feet away from the scene, hands tucked into his pockets, head tipped to the side as he regards the tableau he just created.]
You alright?
[This, to Sarissa, since he's not going to bother addressing her attackers.]
uwu (but also: pennies)
There's a quiet snap of fingers, and the three men stop as though they're marionettes and someone has drawn their strings tight. They're not frozen, they're just still, quiet aside from their breaths, unresponsive.
It's not that Crowley emerges out of the shadows so much that he's just kind of there, several feet away from the scene, hands tucked into his pockets, head tipped to the side as he regards the tableau he just created.]
You alright?
[This, to Sarissa, since he's not going to bother addressing her attackers.]