Well, maybe he's just tired. Tired in a way that isn't quite physical, maybe emotionally, who knows, but maybe he's tired. Of running, of letting things go, of not making the right choices.

When they move to the dance floor, he's nervous. Preemptively embarrassed. Feels a bit unbecoming, but, oh, why not? Why not-- and then Crowley's hand is on his waist, and he's putting his arm on the demon's shoulder. And he's looking up at him, still unable to see his eyes, but he's looking, and this is a thing that's happening.

He lingers for a second too much, catches himself, clears his throat. "Yes. Ready."