She's apparently forgotten that no one has a clue who she is here, as seen by Crowley's response of not recognizing the name of where she's from.

"No, but they, at least, make good eating, provided they aren't small enough to need to be thrown back in the river." He studies her for a moment. Maybe he misjudged. Or he just needs to wait for the stick to be removed from where it's firmly lodged in her rear.

He shakes his head and finishes the last of his drink. "Good talk. Maybe another time?"