Crowley's always had a lot of hope, and a lot of faith. Not the usual angelic sort, the "God has a plan and all of it is for the best" that's written in gold sigils with underlining, but a quieter general optimism that everything will ultimately be mostly okay, himself and Zira included. He doesn't advertise it, that'd be a little harsh given that his most constant companion over the centuries is a very justifiably paranoid demon, but it's always been there.
Having that quiet bedrock of general belief is different to being told outright that one of his dearest wishes might be realized, however. He smiles again, still radiant. "I might have an area in mind, if you wanted to go have a look. Just to see if you--if we like it."
He can say that, all at once. If they like it, not just one of them. They can be a we, a they, a unit together. That's a miracle if Crowley's ever seen one.
But not as much of a miracle as the smile on Zira's face--unmasked, unfeigned, careful and open and real. Crowley's never seen one like it, and he reaches up to touch a finger to the demon's cheek, stopping just before the touch lands, waiting for permission or maybe just afraid of frightening the expression off.
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Having that quiet bedrock of general belief is different to being told outright that one of his dearest wishes might be realized, however. He smiles again, still radiant. "I might have an area in mind, if you wanted to go have a look. Just to see if you--if we like it."
He can say that, all at once. If they like it, not just one of them. They can be a we, a they, a unit together. That's a miracle if Crowley's ever seen one.
But not as much of a miracle as the smile on Zira's face--unmasked, unfeigned, careful and open and real. Crowley's never seen one like it, and he reaches up to touch a finger to the demon's cheek, stopping just before the touch lands, waiting for permission or maybe just afraid of frightening the expression off.