You're a Mean One, Mr. Grinch
Feet crossed on the corner of the desk, Cas leaned back far enough in Brian's office chair it squealed in protest. The pictures carefully placed across the wooden surface, each felt so foreign, yet so damned familiar. The largest was a particularly haunting face that he recognized immediately - this world's Betsy Braddock. She carried a striking resemblance to his Brianna Braddock, in everything but the eyes. Whoever had first said the eyes were the windows to the soul... had no idea.
He had no way to judge just how long he'd spent starring at the portraits, and he'd probably have stayed there all night, had the office door not swung open. It was the office's owner, still adorned in his Christmas party best - and probably wondering what Cas was doing in his locked workspace, during said party. "Don't you knock?" He asked, indignantly, even though the name Jack Cassidy was not on the door.