Crowley blinks once, twice, then works his jaw a few times -- as if somehow he can shake off the feeling if he tries hard.

"Ton erus -- gnikcuf --"

He shakes his head, leans back in his chair and scrubs his hands over his face. His thoughts are fine, he knows what he's trying to say! But even he knows it's all coming out like nonsense. This is, on some level, reasonably frightening. He sits a moment, trying to think, then drops his hands and makes scribbling motions -- begins to pat himself down. Pen and paper! Maybe if he can write something down, then he'll know if he can make words work outside his brain at all.