When Castiel had showed up to ask Destiny for her assistance, he hadn't been sure if she would actually show up. He was wary in general of magic in general, and he knew better than to fully trust it, but he didn't know what else to do. At least she was here. They were doing something about at least trying to figure out a way to get rid of Dick Roman. It wasn't much, but it was something. He had to latch on to that if he didn't want to lose whatever remained of his sanity. Of what resembled it nowadays, anyway.
The mention of Vera made the soldier pose come back as he straightened his posture and kept focusing outside. He didn't understand why people kept saying that. It's not your fault. Had they not been paying attention? He had let them out. He had let all of them out when they were supposed to remain locked up.
Was this why Father had yet to take away his grace? Was this why he was allowed to remain an angel, despite all of what he had done while possessed? For pretending to be God? Was this his punishment, or was he just expected to rectify everything before that deed was done?
Turning back to her, unable to contemplate his own question, he sat down across from her. He didn't bother staring at the crystal ball, he still had no idea what those things really did, anyway. Or, rather, he knew but it wasn't like he could see into it, anyway.
His focus instead went to the sheet. He stared at the colors. It wasn't his fault. Her words returned to him, but he didn't correct her. He didn't believe her - but he didn't correct her. She wouldn't change her opinion any more than he would change his.