Looking curiously at his surroundings, Castiel wondered where the Trickster had sent him. He could remember what happened, but something just didn't seem right...
"I'm getting you two out of here," he said while putting his hands up towards the two and holding up two fingers in hope to transport them out of the place.
Castiel looked at the ground,
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He was being, he had to admit it to himself, self-indulgently ascetic, while he could. When he returned to his time and place it would be to take up the ornate brocaded mantle of the Archbishop, Papal Nuncio to Argentina, attender of banquets, political figure, employer of servants.
Sam cherished to himself these last few weeks of being just 'Father Sam.'
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"Yes, my son?" He didn't usually use the traditional greeting with strangers, as some people took offense, but his mind had been in the past when he was spoken to.
"If I may call you that." He added quickly, in apology.
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"Do you think that there might be something you are to learn then?" Sam was ebony skinned, tall and muscular, a perfect type of bantu-warrior, but his accent and tones were of a gentle, Irish scholar.
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"I'll keep you words in mind."
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"That building is the hotel. They will have a room for you, a place to get out of the cold. Tell the people at the front desk your name." His head cocked to the side, he considered him.
"Would you like me to go with you?"
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"I am Samuel Panda - Father Sam they call me here. What may I call you?"
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"Castiel. I am an angel of the Lord."
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