While Castiel had no desire to know where where she acquired the money or whom she stole it from, he stood up and waited for her to do the same. The experience had been...unlike the one he'd had at Bobby's. There had been conversation, although it had been forced. Uncomfortable. Even he was not so naive as to see it any differently.
Here, the flapjacks had mostly been...sweet. Somewhat salty, although he suspected that was because they were made too close to the eggs. How he knew that, he decided to blame on the souls Crowley had given him.
And while the waitress was dry, the stress outside were decidedly not. He stood there in the downpour, wondering just what he was meant to do in this situation. He doubted he was supposed to allow Meg to get wet, but she didn't seem to mind.