It's a credit to how far they've come that Blake doesn't immediately balk at what Crowley has to say. He doesn't consider himself a martyr, but he knows it's a common conception. Even when he was a beat cop, the majority of the officers in his precinct felt he went well overboard with his willingness to do whatever was necessary to make things right. No, it's not a new accusation by any means, though his level of disdain over the sentiment has increase considerably over time.

"If it's—" He leans his head to straighten out the muscle Crowley's kneading and tries to come up with the right words. "Even if there's some scale — a reward based structure — it's not fair to say no one deserves nice things more'n me. That's your perspective and you know it's skewed."

This isn't exactly how anyone relaxes, and in fact, Blake seems to be winding himself up, a click-click-click of tension as that proverbial rubber band pings in protest, stretched tighter and tighter.

"I'm selfish 'cause I could be out there doin' more, but I get grumpy an' tired an' frustrated an' end up sleepin' in, stayin' in, spendin' my time fuckin' you — which I have earned — but not doin' what I'm s'posed to be doin', that's for sure." Basically, he's resigned himself to the knowledge that he's just an okay person, not a great one, and that he is willing to screw people over here and there to get a little bit of what he wants. If nothing else, Wonderland's taught him that.