[ Castiel finds his way upstairs... eventually. He gets distracted by some artwork or other on the way there, and if his steps aren't quite as steadfast as they tend to be otherwise, well. He's not going to think about that.
He thinks about other things that he desperately wishes he could stop thinking about.
He's inebriated, and quite obviously so, but not so badly as many humans can get. Mainly he sways a little when standing still, and feels his mind flowing like water through cupped hands. 'shitfaced' is not a status he can achieve with his lantern full and the reserves of alcohol available here. Even a few years ago, when he'd tried to get utterly wasted it had taken the full contents of a well stocked liquor store. He'd still not been as drunk as he's seen Dean be.
When a light and a figure come into view, Castiel squints, then decides that shadowy flutter of a soul must be Bruce. Beautiful, like hazy smoke billowing within a delicate glass figurine. And Castiel sees the cracks, he always does, but just like the scars on Dean's mangled soul, he doesn't see them as flawed. Humans are beautiful for all their imperfections, vibrant with life despite everything they're going through. Even Bruce, while perhaps not having a firework of a soul like Miriam did, is so much more vibrant and alive than he realizes.
How do humans go throug their entire existence, unable to see this within one another and within themselves?
Castiel, for a dizzying moment, wants to take Bruce by the shoulders and tell him just how precious and breathtaking he is beneath the skin and flesh and bones... but something tells him that he might be misunderstood on that statement.
text -> action
He thinks about other things that he desperately wishes he could stop thinking about.
He's inebriated, and quite obviously so, but not so badly as many humans can get. Mainly he sways a little when standing still, and feels his mind flowing like water through cupped hands. 'shitfaced' is not a status he can achieve with his lantern full and the reserves of alcohol available here. Even a few years ago, when he'd tried to get utterly wasted it had taken the full contents of a well stocked liquor store. He'd still not been as drunk as he's seen Dean be.
When a light and a figure come into view, Castiel squints, then decides that shadowy flutter of a soul must be Bruce. Beautiful, like hazy smoke billowing within a delicate glass figurine. And Castiel sees the cracks, he always does, but just like the scars on Dean's mangled soul, he doesn't see them as flawed. Humans are beautiful for all their imperfections, vibrant with life despite everything they're going through. Even Bruce, while perhaps not having a firework of a soul like Miriam did, is so much more vibrant and alive than he realizes.
How do humans go throug their entire existence, unable to see this within one another and within themselves?
Castiel, for a dizzying moment, wants to take Bruce by the shoulders and tell him just how precious and breathtaking he is beneath the skin and flesh and bones... but something tells him that he might be misunderstood on that statement.
So instead he says the next best thing: ]
Hello, Bruce.