Of the things Crowley expected to happen, being attacked by a pretty little blonde girl is not one of them. And let's be perfectly frank, Crowley is not a fighter. He's not much of a lover, either. He's more of a sauntering pain-in-the-ass and that's how he likes it.

So suddenly, he can't breathe. Suddenly, he feels the bones in his neck get constricted. He wants to cry out, but he can't. He flails and reaches up to grab at the scarf around his neck.

His hand makes contact with hers, and his hand is hot, hot like fire. Maybe it'll be enough to frighten her, make her release him.