In less time than it takes to think it, Crowley's trajectory veers off true in the black. It takes him over the back of a crouching man and then onto the stage with as much ease - though considerably less grace - than River Tam.
Who he can see, in shades of dark, an aisle's width away from him and still moving.
Crowley can see in the dark, but doesn't need to, to see what's coming.
It (is - was - will be) bright. So, so bright. Fiat lux. Let there be light.
It all moves queerly slow, for something happening so fast.
"Dad!" screams Simon, and Crowley swears he feels the brush of fingers passing against his jacket, before his arms catch River around the waist and his momentum carries them both under the dignitaries' table.
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Who he can see, in shades of dark, an aisle's width away from him and still moving.
Crowley can see in the dark, but doesn't need to, to see what's coming.
So, so bright.
Fiat lux.
Let there be light.
It all moves queerly slow, for something happening so fast.
"Dad!" screams Simon, and Crowley swears he feels the brush of fingers passing against his jacket, before his arms catch River around the waist and his momentum carries them both under the dignitaries' table.