"Well, let's hope it doesn't come to that," he says distractedly, missing her impressed undertone. "I rather like it when nothing eventful happens at all." He cocks his head at her. "Don't you? Or does that bore you? I ask because... well, Crowley, you know, my friend... the one you don't like. He's under the impression that we've got free will now. Cut off from our universe and all. And to be honest I'm not sure what to do with it. I don't know if I even have the authority to call it smiting anymore. As opposed to just..." He flounders for an acceptable synonym, and shrugs haplessly. "Tussling?"