Ruby laughed lazily. She saw what he was talking about. “And how was your day, dirt and death” she said. If they didn’t laugh at things now and again she was pretty sure they’d go mad. Of course there was always the possibility that she already had. No one would blame her. That's what madness was after all. A way to cope.
And her dark eyes kept watching, darting from the spirals of smoke back to the angel that had given her the joint in the first place. What was she doing? Why was she sitting here, in utter comfort with him wanting.... wanting something? “...Cas” she said simply, looking up and tilting her head up toward him. She didn’t know if she was being an idiot. If it would have changed things. If it would make her feel like less of a wife. But then people had decided for her that she was a widow hadn’t they?
“If it wasn’t for Sam I sometimes wonder if you’d...” she said, leaning up a little further. “But he’s dead. That’s what they say. He’s dead and I need to move on. Find happiness because ‘I deserve it’. I don’t you know. I don’t deserve anything good. This is my fault as much as anyones. All of this. Maybe me and Sam were never supposed to be happy...” She shrugged, not sure how to put what she was trying to say. “I just notice, the women, the ones that leave here. They leave happy. Happiness is hard to find in a world like this.” She told him, wondering if she was wrong to consider what she was asking.