'M'fine, no, yeah,' Crowley says distractedly, eyes still firmly on Bayan. 'C'mere,' he murmurs, and she hops over, fluttering up into his arms, a warm, heavy, feathery body that feels entirely like any ordinary bird. He certainly does not hug her or anything of the sort, but he does lift a hand to scritch at the back of her head. Her filmy third eyelid flutters briefly in pleasure.
If she is his soul, Crowley thinks, then allowing anyone else to touch her would be... ridiculously intimate. It's like the physical equivalent of the kind of conversation both he and Aziraphale avoid like the plague. Hell, screw intimate, it's ridiculously trusting. Crowley doesn't even want to think about the kind of nastiness a corporeal soul could make possible. And even though yeah, all right, if there is anyone he'd trust with his soul, it probably would be Aziraphale-- there's certainly no-one else he can think of that even comes close to making that list-- but the sheer soppiness of that thought makes him wrinkle his nose.
As for what it felt like? 'Uh,' Crowley fumbles for words, suddenly awkward, because seriously, not the kind of conversation they're good at.
Bayan, apparently, is either less awkward about the possibility of a discussion of feelings, or simply more brash, as she cocks her head up at Orisa with one bright golden eye. 'Come down here and see, if you want.' It's half invitation and half challenge.
'Bayan!' Crowley hisses. If she's part of him, he thinks it distinctly unfair that she should make decisions to say things like that without his say-so.
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If she is his soul, Crowley thinks, then allowing anyone else to touch her would be... ridiculously intimate. It's like the physical equivalent of the kind of conversation both he and Aziraphale avoid like the plague. Hell, screw intimate, it's ridiculously trusting. Crowley doesn't even want to think about the kind of nastiness a corporeal soul could make possible. And even though yeah, all right, if there is anyone he'd trust with his soul, it probably would be Aziraphale-- there's certainly no-one else he can think of that even comes close to making that list-- but the sheer soppiness of that thought makes him wrinkle his nose.
As for what it felt like? 'Uh,' Crowley fumbles for words, suddenly awkward, because seriously, not the kind of conversation they're good at.
Bayan, apparently, is either less awkward about the possibility of a discussion of feelings, or simply more brash, as she cocks her head up at Orisa with one bright golden eye. 'Come down here and see, if you want.' It's half invitation and half challenge.
'Bayan!' Crowley hisses. If she's part of him, he thinks it distinctly unfair that she should make decisions to say things like that without his say-so.