M11-M20 Hallway
As one hundred percent thrilled as he was to find that his recent thirteen year old victim of good ol' traditional slaughter was alive and, unfortunately, not in pieces, Gabriel was significantly more thrilled that he had self-established himself as a guardian angel for the night to one very, very hapless human.
The irony was not lost on him. It was actually about as subtle as he usually was.
Of course, he could have stuck with the vague hope that Michael was intelligent enough - or boring enough, which seemed more accurate - to stay in his room and not venture out into the darkened hallways of a freaking mental asylum. Even if he was brainwashed, Castiel's habit of making sincerely bad decisions was, for all intents and purposes, very likely to continue.
This had better only last one night. Seriously.
Luckily for him, his angelic blade was still only on its second night of transformation so he didn't have to waste twenty minutes curled up on the floor, sucking his thumb. It didn't have near the familiarity of what he had wielded last night. There was a definite pang of disappointment that he was ignoring. What could you expect from a chained-up archangel? Last night had been his night for his peacock ass to fly. And he had. And it was Very Good.
So now it was back to the shitter. C'est la vie.
[To here.]
The irony was not lost on him. It was actually about as subtle as he usually was.
Of course, he could have stuck with the vague hope that Michael was intelligent enough - or boring enough, which seemed more accurate - to stay in his room and not venture out into the darkened hallways of a freaking mental asylum. Even if he was brainwashed, Castiel's habit of making sincerely bad decisions was, for all intents and purposes, very likely to continue.
This had better only last one night. Seriously.
Luckily for him, his angelic blade was still only on its second night of transformation so he didn't have to waste twenty minutes curled up on the floor, sucking his thumb. It didn't have near the familiarity of what he had wielded last night. There was a definite pang of disappointment that he was ignoring. What could you expect from a chained-up archangel? Last night had been his night for his peacock ass to fly. And he had. And it was Very Good.
So now it was back to the shitter. C'est la vie.
[To here.]