Who: Boyd Crowder and Castiel Where: Sam's bar What: Two crises of faith convene in the same room - complete matter of chance When: Monday evening Rating: Low
It wasn't that he was particularly depressed or even upset - if he were, Castiel only assumed that was what he was supposed to call the unpleasant feelings of dread or pain in those moments, but it was not one of them. Dean had returned to them, which was without a doubt, a silver lining to the incomprehensible erraticism of the realm they were all trapped in and his "date" with Meg had gone well. It was simply a matter of not knowing what to do next. The vampire hunts were going well. He'd managed to kill many and no one to his knowledge had been harmed, but he'd taken to drinking and found he rather liked it. Seeing as Sam worked in this particular establishment, he supposed he would at least be somewhat welcome despite his knowing Sam Winchester and Sam alone. Transporting himself there instantly, he landed with a flap of his wings and took a seat.
As for Meg, he didn't know when he was supposed to feel something or if the feeling he had was the feeling he was looking for. He liked her presence and had enjoyed himself, but beyond that, he was still processing much of it. She was pleasing to look at. Pleasant to speak with. He found himself seeking her presence often, but having never experienced actual love, he had no idea what he was meant to be evaluating.
He didn't recognize the bartender, but he ordered a beer. It was the only thing he knew how to order primarily. Everything else, he'd taken to drinking straight from the bottle and by the case lod. One beer was hardly going to affect him, but it tasted...decent. It was something he wanted, but he had no other adjectives for it otherwise. He'd also been told he needed to work on his description of various objects, but it was definitely a process. And the man at the bar beside him looked equally as pensive. Or perhaps he was angry about something, Castiel found it difficult to read. He didn't speak, so Castiel didn't speak either. Humans had strange rituals when it came to drinking.
...Even if he knew more about the man simply by looking at him. His experiences with Chastity had taught him not to discuss it, but there were many conflicts within him. Fathers, brothers...and several bombings, but he didn't read this man as a terrorist. Somehow that wasn't the proper term either. And not being able to come up with the proper term for anyone or anything only served to frustrate him further. Keep his eyes ahead, Castiel simply took another sip of his beer. Still, he kept his wings tucked close to his back. Even if they were not visible to humanity, something still made him slightly uncomfortable.