as slender fingers swiftly return to his shirt, blue eyes follow ; gaze dropping down to track the way her claws make quick work of the top buttons. this time, castiel doesn't stop her either. not that he encourages it ─ he simply watches, observing the movements in a quiet sort of skepticism, feeling the cool air hit against his now exposed skin. he looks up again, at her, placing his head slightly askew as eyes meet, cocking a dark brow, lips pressed together. angel lingers there, attempting to decipher intent ; demon's were erratic, unpredictable creatures. not to be trusted. and yet, somehow, castiel doesn't leave.
meg blinks at him, and it's devilishly charming. disturbingly so. the door swings open, allowing the noise from inside to spill out into the alley. he hesitates, of course he does, because no matter how easily she laughed, no matter how lightly she touched him, the facts remain. castiel has seen what her kind does, what they were. so why this ? still, against his better judgement, he follows.
the thick air hits him like a wall, hot and saturated with music and voices mixing together, the dull sounds of glass against glass clinking. posture shifts almost immediately once inside. shoulders tightening, awareness sharpening. out of place. he is always out of place. he follows meg to the bar, demon's gesture drawing his attention to the drink menu.
he scans it. for a brief moment, he considers ordering a glass of water ─ but then eyes flick to shape beside him, amused and expectant, before returning to the menu. water isn't letting loose. a small shift in his stance. dean drinks beer. often. and he understands this world in a way castiel just doesn't. and sometimes, imitation is the closest thing to understanding he can manage. the angel meets the bartender's gaze then, leaning himself slightly forward so his low voice will carry over the noise.
' i'll have a . . . beer, ' he says, then pauses, looking back at the menu. scanning. pretending he knows what half of these names even mean. then he spots something. blues shifting back to meg, something bold flickering through the celestial's countenance before turning his head back to the man behind the bar. ' . . . and a devil's margarita. ' the bartender gives the two of them a quick nod and moves off. castiel straightens, head turning toward meg, just a little bit. voice lowering, meant only for her. ' i have no idea what i just ordered. but i suspect you do. '
