"They chose their homes to be here because it's what they know... To survive. I'm sure given the chance to choose a person's home they would. I think that's why you should have a shelter... You'd let the cats choose" he replied, looking off into the distance. It was something Azrael knew all too well. He had spent thousands of years in hiding, in exile, trying to keep doing his job to serve his creator while keeping low enough so that certain Angels would not come after him or the few remaining servitors he had left. It was a difficult balance that often left him alone. For that time, he spoke to some Angels from time to time, give a few hundred years or more between visits. The rest of the time he only spoke to the dead, guiding them, and helping those bound to Hell to free them.
Leaning over, he pet a grey and white cat as it brushed past his leg. The creature began to purr loudly and mewed for more attention, while the other smaller grey cat hopped up on the bench to sniff at Castiel's jacket.
"Well I'm no genius but I can guess that something happened between the two of you. Something you're hiding from. Something you're not forgiving yourself for since Samandriel showed up here, right?" he asked. "I'm not going to judge you, I don't do that. I listen. That's the way I've always been. Closest you get to me judging is making sure that souls aren't unjustly trapped in Hell, so just talk to me..." he paused. "Actually, you know what? If you don't wanna talk about this you don't have to me. Ignore me if I'm being a pushy prick, all right? You can talk to me about anything though, and I won't judge you okay? I just want you to know that"