She watched with great amusement as a slight blush crept up his neck and across his cheeks. Was he...embarrassed? Was talking to her making him nervous? She almost laughed at him but, somehow, she didn't think he'd understand that she meant it with affection. She wondered if he understood just how much of her teasing came from the softness he brought out in her. She'd be the first to admit that her focus was usually on herself, but the moment she was next to him, all that armor, the thick layer of sarcasm and anger that she'd spent centuries building, just started to flake away.
She smiled at him, a real smile. "Do you even know what people do on dates, Castiel?" she asked, a touch serious, but still pleased. She felt like she'd won a small victory. He had been coming to see her, whether he realized it or not. He did want her to be with him. All he had to do was ask, and she was his. Every time.
She pondered her own question. Did she even know what people did on dates? In the past several decades her "dates" had usually ended with discarding corpses in one way or another. She certainly hoped that wouldn't be in the offing for this particular evening. Not only would it most likely kill the mood, but it could be so damn messy. She tried to think about things she'd seen and found endearing and her mind latched onto a particular image. She'd read it in a book recently, a book she would never, as long as she lived, admit to owning. She laughed aloud at the thought of it.
"Come on, feathers. I know where we're going." She turned and started off in the direction of the boardwalk, knowing he'd follow.