As far as cover went, it was nearly perfect. Sure, there were dangers, like the gimlet eye of the angel, who certainly suspected that something was not right, but couldn’t put his finger on what that something might be. Crowley could deal with that in his sleep, and frequently did.
Dealing with his host body, on the other hand, presented certain inconveniences. Since he was only subletting, as it were, he could only lurk within his host’s subconscious, rather than taking outright control, and that meant dealing with his host’s little freaks and foibles.
All this meant was that he was not presently napping, but was bouncing on a tennis court, as his host fan-boyed over his buchou’s latest cool new move. In the back of Jirou’s head, Crowley rolled his eyes.
He was going to be very glad when the tournament season was over, and they could go back to napping their way through Jirou’s adolescence.
