There's a brief moment for which he's not sure whether Crowley is angry at Mary or the spirits, but his jab at them, not her, becomes clear. Yeah, they took advantage of a lot of the people here, but it's especially unfair to the youngest among them. Kids shouldn't have to live not trusting those around them, doubting whether even food is safe. He'd know.

"I'll decide when I leave," he replies. "He won't be back for at least a couple days. I need to eat."

Needs time for more than just that, too. Time to clear his head, re-bandage some of his injuries after the fight. Clean his gun, sharpen his sabre.

"Those bullets you provided - would you be able to make some for my gun as well? I'll need them in order to deliver your gift." He withdraws the flintlock from its holster - not quite the same as his Marine-issue one at home, but familiar enough - so that Crowley can see. Probably needs to know some sort of details to come up with bullets and powder for it.