"Castiel," House says once he has surfaced from his reverie. Unexpected, reverie, for that matter. He blinks, confusion sinking in. "When did you...?" He shakes his head and glances away, displeased. He finds himself wondering how Castiel adjusted to his very limited (and then zero) connection to the Host back when he rebelled.
He leans back in his chair, resuming the idling tossing of the ball, back and forth, back and...
He wonders if that is even the problem he's facing, or if there's more. If the hospital is finally beginning to take more from him than his mojo.