"No shit, Sherlock." Jason was not going to think about the fact that Castiel has said billions. Billions , not hundreds or thousands or even millions. Take that, Creationists, his brain supplied, but he did not want to wrap his awareness around the number or what it implied about Castiel. What had he gotten himself into?
He waited for the waitress to leave before he leaned back in his seat. With no menu to hide behind, he crossed his arms over his chest instead. Not quite defensive, but certainly not open. It wasn't Castiel's fault. Jason had been avoiding most anywhere outside of his apartment or his brothers' and Barbara's places. The restaurant asked a lot of him, particularly since he was still getting to know Cas.
"You ever need me to clear something up, you let me know," he told Cas. He really didn't have any idea what he was dealing with. Angels weren't in his usual wheelhouse. Aliens, sure. Immortal psychopaths, no problem. Magicians? He'd rather call Zatanna, but he'd deal. Something as old as Cas? Jason lacked a user manual.
The waitress stepped in, then, smiled at Jason, and set a glass of water in front of him. He nodded his appreciation. Once she left, he returned his attention to Castiel's question. "Overwhelming's one word for it. Probably applies more to how the old man feels, though. Used to be a time when he couldn't turn his back on us without Damian trying to shove Tim off the top of the T-Rex." Jason hadn't been in the house for most of that drama. By the time he'd started to stay at the manor regularly, Damian had died and been resurrected. That experience had definitely cut into the fratricide attempts.
"I don't know that I miss having them around, exactly. I spent a lot of time away. Still do, if I'm on a mission with my team. But I like knowing that I can get to them."