(no subject)

[thursdays_angel]

The door to Milliways flies open with enough force to bounce it off of the wall. It's just as well that no one is nearby. In fact, the bar seems practically deserted but for the waitrats.

A moment later, out of the void beyond, an angel (a bit worse for wear) staggers through the door. The limp form of a man hangs over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. The face is not visible, resting against the back of Castiel's coat. And every inch of the man--hair to the soles of his shoes--is coated in a thick layer of grime. So much so that his race is difficult to distinguish, let alone his features.

Hell is not, after all, a clean place.

Castiel grabs the door and closes it on the cold realm outside and, hefting his burden a bit more securely, takes stock of Milliways.

God has granted him this place of Sanctuary. But he is hoping to avoid awkward questions.

Comments

[theunsmiling]

Someone in Milliways takes stock of him.

And when the Archangel Michael stands and approaches --

Well, then. No one else is about to notice anything at all, are they?

"Castiel," she says, even and precise. "What have you done?"

Judgment has no place here, and for more reasons than one. Still, this is certainly unexpected.

From one point of view.