[ There it is again, that sharp inhale as her lips purse and her posture straightens. She's perfect, poised--a reflexive habit when things get a little to serious. The universe might be unfair but Midge has a string of pearls and a great sense of posture.

Does she imagine it? The weird flicker? There's a strange weight in the room, something she can't place--is it the village, is it Castiel's shift in demeanor, or is it just her imagination running away with how this conversation is going?

For the first time in a while, Miriam's at a loss for words. ] --I'm not better or worse than anyone else here, but I can't do anything. You're a freaking Angel, my closest friends here are a scientist and a cop, and there's 12 year olds running around with superpowers, if rumours are anything to go by.

[ Her hand flies up to her face, covering half of it, eyes scrunched closed. ] I'm sorry--I didn't mean to just dump this all on you. That's not fair.