Crowley touched Ermac lightly on the shoulder as he dug into his coat and extracted a picture of Falstaff in his full Shakespearean finery, lip pouting mightily in faux pride. It had been given a cheap frame, which was chipped from the previous nights adventures.
"This is what you were after, right?" Crowley spoke quietly. "I did find it and we went out for one last send off together. It was a blast... ah.. Anyway, its done and he is done. Now. Take this and give it pride of place, you know. That man... That Libertine, gave his life for me. Thats important."
He laid the picture on the table before the Syndic, nodded once and retired to his Cabal's table. Where he sat alone.