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The hotel bar was so sparsely occupied that the mopey woman steadily pushing her cares further and further away one drink at a time was impossible to miss.
Despite her buzz increasing drop by drop, her snug up-do and sleek business-wear gave nothing away.
Curiosity getting the better of him, Crowley took a seat at one of the small tables directly behind her, waiting in silence for several minutes before she dug into her modest handbag for her phone.
He watched this new development with interest, as nothing was ever as satisfying for him as puzzling out the misery of others.
There seemed to be an internal monologue happening at the bar, as Naomi set her phone down several times, hemming and hawing before finally placing her call.
"Mr Winchester, hello. It's Naomi, Samandriel's aunt... I think we got off on the wrong foot. This has been a very stressful event, and I apologize if I came off as rude... No, of course not... I was wondering if I could make it up to you over dinner? ...Maybe just drinks, then? There's a bar here at my hotel, and I certainly wouldn't mind the company of a gentleman such as yourself, this evening."
Crowley looked past her, silently praising his good fortune to find a sliver of mirror behind the shelf of bottles that was able to convey the fall of her face as the call continued.
"Well, if you change your mind, there's only the one hotel in town, and now you have my number," she still seemed to hold some hope, but like the flip of a switch, her face went dark, "Fine. Fine, that's fine. I'm sure you'll at least have the tact to forget I called. Have a good night, Dean, because you won't be having a great one."
She ended the call rather abruptly, muttering to herself as she stuffed her phone into her purse. Naomi drained what was left of her drink and having billed it to her room, got up to leave, only to find Crowley looking entirely too pleased only a few feet behind her. She rolled her eyes in disgust.
"Struck out, then?" he asked.
"Did you want something, Crowley?" she demanded.
Crowley gave only the vaguest hint of a shrug, making it clear he was only after her reaction, feeding on her discomfort, entertained by the way her attitude covered her obvious embarrassment.
At his refusal to answer, she started for the elevators, only to find, as she'd reached them, that he had followed after her, and intended to board with her, standing shoulder to shoulder.
"I thought it might interest you to know," he said softly, in a deceptively comforting voice, "That our nephew is not paralyzed. I know they told you they weren't certain what the damage might have been to his spine, but he has feeling and movement in both legs."
The elevator doors opened to an empty cab, and Naomi hurried on, pressing the button immediately. Turning to Crowley, who'd stepped in just behind her, she told him with retained venom, "I don't like being followed."
"No one does. But you wouldn't be here if you weren't worried about the boy, and I am attempting to alleviate some of those worries. I may not respect you, but I can allow you that much," Crowley answered smugly as the elevator began to rise.
Naomi shook her head, "It's his own fault, tearing around on a death machine, flying by the seat of his pants. What did he expect to happen?"
"That's the narcissist I know," Crowley replied with a smirk, "Making it his fault he's injured. Such an inconvenience to you."
"What's your floor?" Naomi asked, her hand hovering near the panel of buttons.
"Same as yours," he answered, "Funny, how you criticize him. His rebellious streak has nothing on yours, and yet, nothing he does ever seems good enough for you... Do you still have that tattoo?"
Naomi glowered, waiting for the doors to open, fishing her key card from her handbag as she waited, trying to ignore the reflection as to her side, Crowley cast a knowing glance at her rear.
Wasting no time, she exited before the doors were fully open, turning corners sharply as she went. Moving to put the card in the slot, it took her three tries before she realized it was upside down. Hearing the door across the hall from her open behind her back, she reluctantly turned to look at Crowley, who coolly gestured inside.
He raised his eyebrows, "What do you say, darling? Once more, for old time's sake?"
Naomi narrowed her eyes, indignant, "What makes you think I would ever-"
"Naomi, dear," he purred, "Let's skip the pretenses. I have all night, but why waste it?"
With a breath of hesitation, she pulled her door closed behind her, and entered the room across the hall where held the door open for her.