Crowley is sorely tempted to change back into a snake and catch the bloody things in his mouth--calm down, it's not like he'd swallow--but he's a bit chary of the idea of licking the sparkly little magic poofs. Especially since, when he does manage to basically trip over one and grab it before it gets away, it makes him so dizzy with a bizarre sense of peace that he sits down very suddenly in the dirt and nearly loses hold of it.

He holds it up in the air and shakes it. "Stop that. I don't need weird magical emotional manipulation. Save that for whatsherface."