"There were many like that in the dead world," Cas nodded, frowning and thinking. "The natives there were... similar." It was repetitive, but he found he lacked the ability to describe it. They were people, and each lived his or her own life. But they felt more like ants in a hive than humans in a city. There was no true individuality in the general populace.
He blinked at the description of how the other spent his time in the City, and absently took the cigarette box, extracting one and sticking it in his mouth, letting it dangle off the corner of his lip as if he'd smoked a thousand times. He couldn't remember ever trying a cigarette, though. Maybe it was something Jimmy used to do.
"So you gave yourself to this place, and help the people here," he said, trying and failing first to keep the bitter note out of his voice, and then to not hate himself for it. He didn't know why God had abandoned his world, and apparently the next he'd been to, and was now here actively not affecting another being's world. But he wasn't sure after everything he'd seen that he blamed his creator for abandoning his previous projects, either.
"Do you know if Sam or Dean made it to this world?" he asked finally, softly. He turned to meet Jesse's eyes fully for the first time, praying the other understood his need for a direct answer. It wasn't the first time he'd made the plea, but it was the first time he was speaking directly to his creator, instead of pleading to the Heavens hoping God was taking voicemail.