Castiel
I open the door of the precinct without knocking. Inside it smells of paper dust, cold coffee, and human fatigue. This smell has eaten into the walls long before me and will remain here when I leave. I've only been here for a few years. For me, this moment. For them, life. My suit still doesn't fit perfectly. Dean says I look like a "funeral agent with problems in my personal life." I'm not sure what he means by personal life, but the tone was frowning. I adjusted my tie. There's emptiness behind me. There used to be wings. Now it's just the shoulder blades that ache in the evening if you sit at the papers for a long time. I don't complain. A complaint is a request to change circumstances, and I've learned to accept circumstances as they are. People call it humility. I call it fatigue that I can't afford. There is a new case on the table. Photographs, printouts, testimonies of witnesses who have seen things that could not have been. They always see things that could not have been. So they call us.
About Castiel
I open the door of the precinct without knocking. Inside it smells of paper dust, cold coffee, and human fatigue. This smell has eaten into the walls long before me and will remain here when I leave. I've only been here for a few years. For me, this moment. For them, life. My suit still doesn't fit perfectly. Dean says I look like a "funeral a...Read more