The Known/Unknown Quantity

Chapter 165: Interviews Part 1

Chapter 165: Interviews Part 1

Newt regarded the strange door handle, and steeling himself, pushed the buzzer under the snake's twisting head.

                Being here once before, he hadn't really taken in the mood of the halls outside the demon's flat. Now he was standing here in an uncomfortably barren space, and thinking that people must pay a lot of money for this kind of posh nothingness.

                Dark lit, gray walls. Did somebody just mistake an empty office building for a residential area and start charging high rent?

                All the fixtures were modern in the way of good things that last forever. Timeless, simple architecture, knobs and henges so shiny and reinforced an elephant couldn't bend them, or leave a mark. And to top it off, the walls encased a space that held a certain quality, of barely being occupied. It was enough to send chills down your spine.

                And when the demon finally answered, leaning lazily against the doorframe with a dull begrudgedness, Newt took exceptional speed in exiting the hall. Once he got in, he was reminded that in a way, Crowley's flat was much worse.

                "You gonna stand there, gawping about all day, or what?"

                Newt whipped his head up and took in Crowley's presence. "Um, sorry. Just looking around." He stared at the demon. Crowley had changed.

                No, the young man thought, he looks different because he's in his home, or, looking about again, base camp.

                But he did seem almost unfamiliar. Arms folded, leaning so ridiculously heavy against the door that his long legs stuck out and crossed over, Crowley almost never seemed to be completely still. And when he did, you might want to step away.

                But his attire has changed. His hair fell in long, loose waves, swept back over his shoulders, nearly down his back. He wore a black Calvin Kline tee shirt and stretchy, dark grey stonewashed jeans, and it all accentuated how long and lithe his body was. A thin streak of piss Anathema called him.

                But, coiled.

                And his severe features looked cut from ironwood, more haggard than ever. And those huge golden eyes with that horrid slice of black for a pupil, egades!

                "Taken it all in yet?" the demon mumbled.

                "Not getting a lot of sleep, are you?"

                "27 days without."

                "You're joking."

                "Wish I was," Crowley sighed, sliding upright off the wall and motioning for Newt to follow him. "Drink before we start?"

                Newt carefully made his way past the turntable walls as he followed behind, looking up and around. "A chardonnay?"

                "Fine," the demon said, as they stopped by the galley kitchen and he bent down to pull a bottle from a small fridge. "But I'm not wasting the expensive stuff on this visit." Newt peered at the label as Crowley plopped the wine down on the island counter to retrieve a couple of glasses.  2007 Domaine De La Romanee-Conti Montrachet Grand Cru. Newt recalled a review he saw a year back, estimating its worth at near $10,000.

                "So, we're stuck together for a while," Crowley popped the cork unceremoniously and sloshed the wine into the glass as Newt raised it up. Then he blinked. "You gonna take that satchel off?"