Crowley barely manages a grunt, as his shoulders are shoved against the thick planking of the door. As a small, detached, part of his brain observes the white flashes obscuring his vision, he thinks for an absurd moment that Raguel is once again -



"Fuck you," Crowley replies with feeling, once his eyes refocus (visibly so; his sunglasses are long gone by now). He swallows, under Raguel's nails digging into his neck. "That really hurt, you know."