Chuck wasn’t going to go very far while not entirely sober, after that whole debacle where he’d tried to warn everyone on the board... while completely drunk sitting in a playground, causing Jo to come out and retrieve him. He seriously owed her for that one, considering if he’d been out there much longer he’d have probably ended up doing something stupid, somehow. Maybe he’d send her a fruit basket, or... something. He wasn’t entirely sure what an appropriate thanks for saving my drunk ass from running around in traffic or something gift was. Maybe the internet knew - he’d check later.
In retrospect, he shouldn’t have posted anything at all, probably. All he’d done was cause confusion, and if he’d been successful in warning everyone, it would have just created mass panic. He should text Dean and Sam, but his phone was... actually, he didn’t know where his phone was. Probably lost in the boxes he’d yet to unpack, or dropped somewhere during his drunken venture to the playground... why the hell he’d decided to sit around on a playground, he doesn’t know, but he’s a little grateful that he didn’t try swinging properly, or climbing on anything, because then Jo would have come and dragged his dead body back when he broke his neck.
Now, though, he’s tired of being cooped up inside. It’s not that the apartments are bad, it’s just that it’s the end of the world, and he doesn’t want to be stuck indoor waiting to die while his head explodes on and off with pain. So his plan was to sit around outside for a bit, enjoy the fresh air, before he went off to go get something to drink - there was a liquor store not too far off, walking distance, and he was out of drinks.
The cool air felt nice, and he was hoping it would help the headache cut down a few notches, go from brainmelting agony to just plain agony, because, sure, he was getting used to functioning on pain, but he really, really didn’t enjoy it.
>“Hello, Chuck”
”Holy friggin’--!” He reeled back, one hand on his head the other out in front of him like he was trying to defend himself, except by this point he’d already figured out who it was, cut off his words before they could go anywhere more offensive to the angel, “Uh, h-hey, Castiel."