In the endless crystal tones of his kind, Castiel greeted Aziraphale, but it was a formal thing, with no warmth or friendliness, but rather a grave wariness. He felt no kinship with the other, and indeed, felt even more distant than the solid people with their feet on the floor than ever.
The white light slowly spun very gently in place, like some kind of overenthusiastic firefly, and the sense of uncertainty strengthened as Castiel tested what kind of wavelengths might be perceptible to Lorne's decidedly unique senses. He didn't have anything else to say but the silent question that could have been anything from "what's the point?" to "why are we here?"