All of those little grunts and pangs of suffering, the feelings of distress and pain rolling off the smaller demon's body in waves....the grin twisted, widening just a bit. It was something he was beginning to enjoy more and more with every encounter he had with the traitorous bastard.

Hastur continued to play with the wing, as though testing its flexibility, its limits, practically able to hear the tendons within creaking with every twist and bend. For a moment he even toyed the idea of setting fire to it, to watch it burn and shrivel in very much the same manner some demons had suffered during the Fall, although Crowley's next few shaky comments made him pause.

"And just what would that be?" He could stand to humor the snake for a moment or two, if nothing else.