The sudden, unsteady lurch of the boat throws a little wave up into Crowley's face, interrupting him in mid-smirk. He splutters, shaking his head, and hauls himself up to lean over the side of the boat again, smirk once again firmly in place.

'Not enough bottles here to get you drunk enough to come join me, wasn't it? You've barely had one and a half. Tch,' he shakes his head, tutting dramatically. 'Careful, angel; it isn't usually so easy to make you eat your words.'