Crowley's jacket covers some of Raguel's light, but not enough - it's getting brighter. Bright enough that despite the chaos, and the gunfire, someone will soon start to take notice.



"Biàn shítou," Crowley whispers to himself, and fists his hands in Raguel's shirt.



They crash into a storage room, hidden in the wings, just as the light returns.

Crowley sits with one shoulder to the door, and watches Raguel lie amongst speakers' stands and wires and chairs, and burn.