He hated this. He had nowhere to put any of his feelings and he'd honestly rather be left alone with his books. Whenever Bobby was herez it was just a confusing mess of irritating emotions.

"My loss, I'm sure. Losing out on my chance at an over the hill red-neck. Tragic." Aleister drawled as he leaned back, trying his best to not enjoy the weird spark of joy this gave him. Rejection. Disappointment. Familiar feelings but no less painful. He was used to it, it was like coming home and he supposed it was nostalgia that fueled him.

He knew why he wasn't loved. He was unlovable. A dick. And he deserved this. All of this. "I guess your type is whatever girl is willing to touch you down there. And we all know you're not a big demon kind of guy. Given your whole 'shoot my wife' thing." He snorted. "Now there was a whoopsie."