...Right. Okay, yeah, definitely not drunk enough for this kind of crap. Comparing him to other Biblical writers, now? Maybe if this were real, that would be a little reassuring, or if he actually believed what was being said and genuinely didn’t feel worthy of it, instead of being just skeptical and painfully sober and headachy. “Uh-huh. I’m sure we would’ve gotten along just fine, right?”
>“I doubt drinking more will help.”
“I don’t think you know enough about alcohol, then.” Sure, he’d seen the angel’s drinking expedition with Ruby, at least parts of it that mattered. But that didn’t mean Castiel got it. Not that he should. Angels shouldn’t be drinking, right? That’s just not exactly angelic, and he shouldn’t encourage it, probably. Then again, he wasn’t exactly Prophet material, yet here he was being told he was. Which was totally not real anyway, but that was beside the point.
>“I am not a hallucination.”
"Oww..." Chuck pulled his hands away from his face quickly at the jab, shooting Castiel a look somewhere between did you seriously just...? and oh, crap, so you are real? and then sighing again.
“Well that’s great. So the stuff you’ve been saying probably wasn’t just me hearing things, either, then.” Chuck wasn’t entirely sure what he was supposed to do with this information, what he was supposed to think about knowing he was a friggin’ Prophet. It wasn’t like he knew what that meant for him, or what happened if he didn’t write or told people things he shouldn’t. “Why can’t I see things right, if I’m some kind of Prophet, then? I mean, shouldn’t I be able to see things no matter what?”