milliways_bar | (no subject)

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(no subject)

January was what one might call an eventful month, if one were being judicious.

But it's over, and February is looking promising.

Meg has a seat near the fire, and is flipping through a book of knitting patterns.

She's just not sure what she's looking for yet.

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"Good. That is good."

Castiel moves around to take the neighboring chair.

"You reported him to the proper authorities?"

The Mounties, perhaps.

"I reported him to the proper authorities," she says.

Campus security.

And, more importantly, Laura and Parker. Who are not quite the Mounties, but who certainly got their man.

"I also told my friends, so everyone is on the look out, and aware.

"I don't think he'll be back."

Castiel nods.

"I am sorry that he caused you distress, but glad that that was all he caused you."

"It is important. Having people around you whom you can trust."

"Very," Meg says.

"I am fortunate in my friends.

"How have you been?"

"I have been as I usually am."

Castiel is never entirely sure how to answer that question. So little changes for him.

Except in Milliways.

"I have read the Anarchist Cookbook, the title of which was most misleading. I was asked for suggestions for a science fair project. And I met your acquaintance, Constable Fraser."

Where to start with all that?

"I . . . The Anarchist's Cookbook?"

Really?

"I hope you didn't use it to make the science fair suggestions."

Castiel just gives her a look.

"It was a child's science fair project," he says, with faint disapproval.

Even he knows that children and explosives do not mix well.

"Oh, of course," Meg says.

"Good.

"So you met Constable Fraser?"

"He was tending bar. I ordered coffee, and we conversed."

Human social ritual. Castiel thought it had gone well.

"He is a pleasant young man."

"I enjoyed speaking with him.

"I only met him once, but it's nice to know he's still coming here."

"I showed him my pen. He seemed to approve."

If an angel can claim to have a prized possession, that pen is Castiel's.

Had she known that, Meg would have bought a nicer pen.

But she smiles.

"I can't I'm surprised.

"It is a Mounties pen, after all."

And yet Castiel wouldn't trade his novelty pen for the so-called finest on Earth.

He still occasionally gets mesmerized by the tiny floating horsemen.

Castiel nods a bit, smiling.

"National pride. It is not a concept with which I have direct experience, but I understand its importance to humanity."

"And especially justified, in the case of Canadians."

(This would be an example, Castiel.)

Castiel mulls this for several moments, before Meg's intent seems to dawn on him.

"Yes. Of course."

"There are no such distinctions drawn in the Garrison."

That doesn't surprise her, somehow.

"I probably couldn't begin to understand the answer if I asked you what home was like for you, could I?"

"It....is a difficult concept to try to articulate," he agrees, with a nod.

A challenging thing to articulate.

"You would see it as something formless. Just as I would be, were you able to see me outside of a vessel."

Right before her eyes burned out.

Ergo, never going to happen.

"But it is my home," he says, with a slight shrug. "It is where I abide with my brothers and sisters."

Meg would like to keep her eyes, yes.

She nods.

"I can kind of understand that part, at least."

She thinks.

Castiel smiles. Just a little bit.

"It is not quite as interesting as Milliways."

He can say it. No one from home is around to hear.

And Meg will never tell, if any of them turn up.

"No baseball in the Garrison, right?"

The smile becomes a bit more pronounced.

"No. There is no baseball. I could only imagine the reaction were I to suggest a game."

Castiel knows that there are angels in the Garrison who, as humans would say, have been waiting for him to snap for a while now.

They would probably take the suggestion of a baseball game as clear evidence.

"Probably about the same if I explained to most people back home that we'd had a game here."

Castiel tilts his head.

"They would think you were abandoning your reason?"

"Probably that I had already abandoned it."

"You tell no one at home? About what you do here?"

Granted, Castiel doesn't either. But the fact that he comes here is not a secret.

He is under orders to come here. And gossip spreads quickly in the Garrison.