"Shooting them!" he repeats, finding that particularly remarkable. "Well of course, I expect you're an excellent shot."

Crowley takes a few steps away from her to open his wings. They emerge from his back as if they'd been there the entire time, a loud noise accompanying their spreading with an echo. They're enormous, they have to be to carry someone his size, and they're sleep and black like his clothing, as well as well kept.

"Alright, what would be more comfortable, then, I can carry you against my chest, or miracle some sort of harness, I suppose."