Their reactions were more or less predictable, and he had no way of showing them how little space they had to be skeptical. If he provoked Dean into punching him right now, he would take the blow just as a human would. There would be no shielding, no heavenly resilience. He could not take them out of this place with a flap of his wings (and when Dean glanced at his back as if searching for them, he couldn't help hunching forward in embarrassment); he could not cause a lightning flash or a rumble of thunder.
They likely thought he was insane (or simply moronic), and there was nothing he could say right now to change their minds.
Except for give them information and prove to them that he knew more about them than was even possible. The deal, Dean's trip to Hell, and his role in getting him out. He could be brutally honest (that, at least, was something he was good at that had not been taken from him), and maybe eventually they would cave in.
"I'm not boasting," he shot back at Dean, his tone a bit short due to frustration, mainly with the situation itself. He sighed then, straightening and trying to scrape up some confidence from wherever his powers had gone. Just as he was about to try and tell them something affecting, however, he felt a hand on his shoulder.
Castiel tensed and immediately grabbed for the offending wrist, causing its owner to gasp in response. When he realized it was one the nurses, he relinquished and instead stared up at her in question.
"I'm sorry, Michael," she said with a nervous smile. "I didn't mean to startle you. It's just that lunch is over, so the Derringers need to shower and you can go relax in the Sun Room, all right?"
It wasn't all right, but he knew that resisting would get him nowhere. He did note that they were using fake names for the Winchesters as well, however. It didn't shed that much light on the situation, but it was something to keep in mind nonetheless. Sending one more glance at each brother, Castiel nodded and stood. "Very well."
This wasn't over by any means, but it would clearly have to wait for another time. Until then, he could muse over how to best present the information.
no subject
They likely thought he was insane (or simply moronic), and there was nothing he could say right now to change their minds.
Except for give them information and prove to them that he knew more about them than was even possible. The deal, Dean's trip to Hell, and his role in getting him out. He could be brutally honest (that, at least, was something he was good at that had not been taken from him), and maybe eventually they would cave in.
"I'm not boasting," he shot back at Dean, his tone a bit short due to frustration, mainly with the situation itself. He sighed then, straightening and trying to scrape up some confidence from wherever his powers had gone. Just as he was about to try and tell them something affecting, however, he felt a hand on his shoulder.
Castiel tensed and immediately grabbed for the offending wrist, causing its owner to gasp in response. When he realized it was one the nurses, he relinquished and instead stared up at her in question.
"I'm sorry, Michael," she said with a nervous smile. "I didn't mean to startle you. It's just that lunch is over, so the Derringers need to shower and you can go relax in the Sun Room, all right?"
It wasn't all right, but he knew that resisting would get him nowhere. He did note that they were using fake names for the Winchesters as well, however. It didn't shed that much light on the situation, but it was something to keep in mind nonetheless. Sending one more glance at each brother, Castiel nodded and stood. "Very well."
This wasn't over by any means, but it would clearly have to wait for another time. Until then, he could muse over how to best present the information.