[What's a name, anyway? Crowley was Crawly was something else long before that, but it burned away like the white from his feathers.

So he's not bothered by the time she takes to answer, nor does he seem particularly bothered by the question.]

Did I?

[There have never been explicit directions from Hell to keep his nature a secret and that matters even less these days. Less so again now that he's in this strange place.

With an air of "oh, why not", Crowley looks at Yasha over the tops of his glasses, tugging them down slightly with a finger and angling his head enough that she'll be able to see his serpentine eyes. He winks.]

Fat lot of good they did me, hm? They're supposed to actually work, but this place seems to have put a damper on things.