Duma arched an eyebrow as Samandriel started to reach up but made no move to stop him. Instead, it seemed the seraph decided to police himself and Duma closed his eyes, burying his disappointment deep in his chest. Castiel was kind to him but in a distant way. Azrael and Michael were... nothing. They were nothing. Gabriel was just an asshole. He continued to forget what affection was except in the rare moments when perhaps John would come see him and Duma could lean against him and let nothing at all happen.
"Brightford is... Well, bright, warm. It is sandy beaches and palm trees. I understand it is a bit like a cleaner Florida - though I have never been to Florida before," he shrugged his shoulders, looking a bit sheepish. "I like walking on the beach at night, finding and hiding shells."