"I'm fairly sure half the things you own could be considered antiques." Nevermind the statues dotting Crowley's flat. That's very much on purpose. But if the warlock is out wandering, Crowley probably needs to corral him. Before he runs into the angel, go- sa- somebody forbid. He'd never hear the end of it.

"Westminster," he finally says, sounding more reluctant than he feels. "Though I'll thank you not to lump me in with the politicians, that's none of my business."