2502/A Walk in the Park

A Walk in the Park
Date of Scene:	18 September 2017
Location:	New York City
Synopsis:	Beth meets an angel while walking in the park.
Cast of Characters:	Castiel, Elizabeth Greene

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Castiel has posed:
    The nights were cooler. He'd noticed that. Temperature was nothing to a celestial, and heaven was bereft of such things. But he could see the signs. How people walked with collars pulled up. The way the faintest of mists floated away from exhales as they went to and fro, ignoring one another, refusing to make eye contact. In the day, you could see the brilliance of colours starting to blossom from the trees - Fall's answer to flowers. But what Castiel was finding he liked most was the way shadows deepened. The near monotone of night. How dead leaves crisped and crunched underfoot as you walked along or off paths. The way the air smelled. It made his nose twitch, and he didn't know why. But it did. And he liked it.
    Thus it was he was spending the evening doing one of his newly favourite things: walking Central Park after midnight. The man's shoulders hunched up in an awkward way about his ears, pulled foward just slightly, making his bear-walking gambol look something more of a lurch than a casual stroll. Blue eyes lifted with curiousity towards everything about him. And that - the eye contact - might have been his mistake right there. Not that he knew it yet...

Elizabeth Greene has posed:
    Her recent trips to NYC for recreation were proving beneficial for Beth. She had been spending too much time working and not enough time taking care of herself, enjoying life the way she used to before burying herself in her work. Too many homicide cases, too much work, everything piling up and her spending even her off time obsessed with it. It didn't help relationships nor friendships. So when she was advised she should take some time off by her Lieutenant, she caught on that maybe she was pushing her luck.
    On one such trip, she ended up in a bar brawl against people dressed up as ninjas.
    Thankfully, this one has been less chaotic. After an evening spent in a pub for most of the night and quite a few drinks under her belt, she opted to walk back to her hotel instead of taking a cab. The air would do her some good and it would give time to burn off the alcohol in her system. It also would save a few bucks.
    Unlike many women, she wasn't the least bit concerned about being in the park alone. She was confident in herself being able to handle whatever might come. Dressed in jeans and a simple black t-shirt with the name 'Greene's Dojo' on the front with an silhoutte-style pair of gi clad fighters facing off, all covered with a lightweight brown leather jacket. As she walks, enjoying the outdoors, she sees the figure ambling her direction wearing a long trenchcoat. Nothing strange there but some sort of personal radar she's learned to trust as a cop has her paying close attention as she moves to the right side of the walkway so he will have room to pass. Her blue eyes remain on his, gauging.

Castiel has posed:
    That, he does notice. The eyes that meet his and don't drift away in an angry apology. Or offer a challenge. It's always one of the two you meet here. So much anger in these being. He could still feel echoes of it in the vessel that bore him. It didn't always make sense to him, but then again, that was part of the reason he'd come: to understand these frailties that had defied all reason and bent against adversity to always come back stronger than before. Still? They were not proof against all things, and ill winds were blowing - more than usual.
    So why did this noe not cringe away from him? he'd noticed that, too. The females of the species seemed more inclined to exist as though they were trying to disappear. The human ones, anyway. And this one didn't show signs of being more than that. Yet? She was regarding him with interest. Taking his measure.
    Castiel stopped in his tracks, to regard her in return. His blue-eyed start appraising this specimin before him, before offering in a low, gravelly voice that bespoke too many packs of cigarettes in a misspent past, "Should you be here at night?"

Elizabeth Greene has posed:
    As he stops, so does Beth. Her body is turned slightly away from him so her right foot is in front of the left. Her balance is kept on the balls of her feet, more to the back foot. Her hands leave the pockets of her jacket to fall to her sides in a seemingly leisurely stance. That way her hands are ready if he tries something.
    His words seem to amuse her as she smirks a bit at the question. Her blue eyes are clear, intelligent and bold as brass. She isn't a shy flower who will be trying to disappear into the background. For her, the world is to be faced head on. She has made her place, by sweat and tears, and she isn't about to worry about other people judging her. Only, this doesn't strike her as that. He seems genuinely concerned. She doesn't have any abilities, any powers, nothing but her instincts and experience to draw on. He seems to be thinking it odd there is a woman walking at night who might be in danger. Not something she is used to.
    The words come out of her mouth before she can stop herself. Must be the alochol. "I dunno. Should you?"

Castiel has posed:
    The quizzical line of Castiel's bushy brows remains a furrow, as he now has her return to him to think on. Should he be here? And, as is his way, he misses the obvious and jumps to the meta-level.
    There's an almost indulgent regard of the woman as he straightens to his full height, shoulders back and erect. Hannds pushed deep in his trenchcoat pockets. "Some would say I should not. But there are things stirring and the heavens can not ignore. I chose. It has not yet been shown a mistake."

Elizabeth Greene has posed:
    That was different. He actually considered her question and answered truthfully. Which, in all honesty, is a wonderfully refreshing things instead of getting some comment about him being a man and her a woman.
    Beth arches a brow at the answer though. That didn't make a whole lot of sense although it boiled down to something that brings a little worry into her mind. Someone says he shouldn't be out and about but he doesn't think it's bad so far. Is that something to be worried about? The word heaven being in there is a bit odd as well. His hands in the pockets are noted and she doesn't relax from her ready stance.
    "It's Central Park. Everyone has a right to walk here if they want to. Who thinks you shouldn't be here?"

Castiel has posed:
    The arch of brow is noted. He's beginning to notice these things - he should, they're happening enough - and learning that they usually mean he's said or done something unexpected. He thought they were simple enough creatures when he decided upon this course of action, indeed, it was one of the reasons he /had/ decided upon this course of action. And yet? Now that he was hear and walking amongst them, he was finding there were subtleties and complexities that were not only unexpected, but worth of consideration.
    What he doesn't see is her ready stance. The way Beth is oriented for flight or fight.
    Castiel doesn't answer immediately, his thoughts caught upon the other first. Moments passing in silence before there's the subtlest of relaxation of his stance - just a fractional drop of shoulders, as though the body remembers that we don't hunch and freeze in position when we converse with another - and he replies, "There are some of the Celestial Choir who think it best you left to your doom such as it may come to you. I chose not to believe that."
    He leans forward then, just enough to create a conspiratorial space. "You may have the right, but I have noticed that your sex does not fare well once the day star sets."

Elizabeth Greene has posed:
    And she thought the last answer was interesting.
    "Celestial Choir? Is that a group from your church or something?" are the first words out of her mouth as she watches his relaxing. It's a good sign normally but she still doesn't let her guard down. Serial killers don't usually seem like killers until you are tied up in a basement somewhere being cut into pieces.
    Then his mouth runs away with him and the tension he just got rid of appears in her shoulders. It could be an innocent statement. It could be he's an idiot. Or it could be a threat. She isn't going to jump to conclusions. So she answers it just as openly as she did the first time he asked if she should be out there. "I'm more than able to deal with any threats." Her own warning if his phrase was meant as one. "There are plenty of women who can." In case it was the second option and he's a moron who thinks women are incapable of taking care of themselves.
    "And how precisely have you noticed that women..." Instead of her 'sex'. "Don't fare well after dark?" If he goes confessing, she's cuffing him right there, Miranda or no.

Castiel has posed:
     At first Castiel doesn't know how to answer Beth's question. There are milenia of examples he could draw upon, right from before the first fires lit shadowed spaces and were discovered to change the taste and textures of meats, and later, plant materials, right on through to the present, where the vaguest of memory echoes assured him this was so, though he could not say why or pinpoint a specific example. She could not have missed such things, could she? Even if there were exceptions - and he knew of those, too - it still did not help him to form a response that was adequate.
    But he'd noticed how females were, most of them. No, not most, many. There just weren't many who walked with this one's self-assurance, or met his eyes in such a way. That, he decided, she might understand.
% "You do not try to disappear. Or make yourself look invisible like the others. Fear makes one hide, even in plain sight. Your sex hides. You do not feel safe."
    Castiel calmly regards her, totally unaware of how close he rides the line to being cuffed and marched to the nearest precinct.

Elizabeth Greene has posed:
    There is truth to his statement but Beth is a bit concerned about the way he is saying it. Something is off here. She's not sure what but it is definitely off. She chooses to continue talking, gauging if he is some sort of danger or not. He doesn't seem it. Her gut is telling her he's alright. She usually trusts her gut but still she isn't walking away when she should.
    "It might be better to avoid the sex comments. There are plenty of men who don't feel safe either," she offers as a suggestion to him, watching his face closely to see how he reacts. "It's true that most women don't feel safe and try to avoid drawing attention to themselves, in case it leads to conflict. I happen to not be one of those. I was raised to be able to handle myself and to not let fear rule me, in any way. Heights, speed, conflict, whatever. I was taught by my parents to face it head on instead of letting it rule my life. It's a shame everyone doesn't get the same from their parents to help them. There's a quote I heard a long time ago that I try to live by. 'A life lived in fear is a life half lived.' In my mind, you only get one shot at this and I will have lived my life fully. It's that simple."

Castiel has posed:
    Her words are taken in, and considered. Mulled over. Turned this way and that, the way one might peek under a series of stones, looking for a hidden gem, or a hiding bug. What she says rings true, though it wasn't an angle he'd considered. Yet another thing to learn about these humans he'd cast his lot in with.I had not considered the male of your kind to be numbered in that fear."
     He pauses, then, looking like he might have been to say a thing, but is silent. It's a long pause - certainly longer than most humans are comfortable with, especially with strangers. "I think I understand. You sex hides. The male of the species aggresses. The root is the same, I think." He seems satisfied with his answer, the most fractional of nods is given before he contemplates the rest of what she has said.
    "It is true. Your kind is but fleeting upon this earth."
    He almost smiles, the gesture less of lips, and more in the understanding of his eyes. "You would not wish a companion, then."

Elizabeth Greene has posed:
    "Summed up well. Men do tend to aggress when frightened, to try and hide that they are afraid. They consider it not macho enough if they seem afraid. Well, some of them. Not all. Again, generalizations are a bad thing," Beth says. Which leads up to the next couple of points.
    She was about to comment on 'her kind' when he threw in that loop at the end which took everything to a weird place that makes no sense to her brain. "Uhm, I guess 'my kind' are fleeting. I'm not sure what your kind is for a basis of comparison. Are you not human?"
    She is a cop in a world of metahumans and aliens. The idea of a non-human doesn't bother her. It would explain a lot with his mannerisms and the way he speaks. He doesn't seem to have a huge grasp of humanity so she is leaning toward alien as opposed to metahuman. "And as for a companion, I have no idea what you mean but I'm pretty sure you are right that I'm not looking for one."

Castiel has posed:
    Again there is that fleeting aspect to him that speaks of indulgence. It's not blazingly obvious, but it's there. The slightest adjustment of posture. A certain light to the blue of his eyes. The way his gravelly voice gentles as he tells Beth, "I am human now."
    Which isn't entirely true. The shell he wears is. And he is no longer truly Angelic, but there is enough of that left to him. The remains of Grace. A weapon. A scant memory of power. Enough to be more here than merely.
    "I meant nothing ill. Only a walk till our ways part." Though he remembers another thing. "Do you like pizza and beer?"

Elizabeth Greene has posed:
    Beth should head to her hotel but something about him nags at her. Keeps her from walking away. She has no idea what it is or why. Maybe she just doesn't want to go back to her hotel yet. It is New York City, after all. The City that Never Sleeps. So, why should she. When in Rome.
    "I do like pizza and beer," she answers carefully. He is human now. Definitely an alien. Although, he mentioned the Celestial Choir. So alien or something more religiously slanted. No way to know and he isn't sharing at the moment. More making sure she knows he made his choice to be a human. Yet this Choir didn't approve of his choice. Very interesting.
    "Yeah, i'll walk with you a bit."

Castiel has posed:
    Castiel gives what can only be called a broken smile. The vessel of him remembering how such a thing is done, but the innhabitant unaware, until the two meet in the middle and form this uneven, uncertainn thing that, ironically, lends him all manner of humanity. And then the faltering thing is gone and he points at an angle to where they are standing.
    "I believe both may be had that way." Another of those too long pauses where it seems he might be done, but before she can answer, perhaps stumbling over her words without realizing he has waited to the point she must fill the empty conversational space between them, he adds, "Unless there is a place you know."
    Indulgently, "It is your park, after all."

Elizabeth Greene has posed:
    "Actually, not my park either. I'm visiting," Beth replies but she turns in the direction he pointed and starts that way. She keeps him to her side though, not allowing for him to get behind her. She also keeps a proper distance to the side although it wouldn't make much difference there. Just easier to react if there is a little distance. In a grappling situation, she knows what to do as well. Thanks to her father's dojo, the one advertised on her shirt. She had that under her belt long before she became a cop.
    "If you know a good place, lead the way. As long as the beer is cold and the pizza has extra cheese, I'll be happy."

Castiel has posed:
    A good place, she says. Which poses a problem of sorts. In these matters, it's always a memory, and even then so fleeting he's unable to pin it down most times. As much as Castiel wears this vessel, the vessel wears him, and their relationship is not a thing of ease yet.
    "It is pizza," he intones without any particular inflection. "The sign says it is. Perhaps I should follow you."
    If he notices her posturing, it isn't evident. It doesn't change his stance. Or his spatial relation to her. Seemingly content to let her set tone and pace for the walk. It isn't as if he couldn't be elsewhere with a thought. Though now, despite her assurances, the weight of obligation has begun to settle upon him. He can feel it in the bones of this vessel. It's odd in the spaces it takes up, and in feeling. There is a rightness to it, though. A resonance that says it belongs.

Elizabeth Greene has posed:
    As they walk, Beth glances sidelong at him. "That makes it sound like it's edidible but not really appetizing." Is that how he meant it? She suspects not. In fact, she goes with her instincts. "Have you had pizza and beer before? For you to pick those two items in combination makes it seem like you have. But your comment makes me think you haven't." As they get close enough for her to see the sign for the joint in question, she knows it is a good one since she ate there the day before while out and about in the city. She holds open the door and motions for him to enter first then she will follow behind.
    Tony is at the counter. He owns the joint. She met him yesterday. A third generation Italian who was born in New York City and will be there til the day he dies. His grandfather opened this pizzeria, which has passed down through the family to him and his. Someday, his son might take over. Tony hopes so at least, from what he told her. As they enter, he yells out, "Welcome to Tony's. Sit where you like."
    "Pitcher of beer, Tony," she says. He nods and rushes off to get the pitcher as they move to sit down.

Castiel has posed:
    Always with the pauses before he answers. So measured the moments between being asked and his reply. So it is that they're almost there before he tells Beth, "I am familiar with the alcohol." Something tells him, though, that he shouldn't admit he's not tried food. No, that isn't true either. There were these things called 'pretzels'. They made the vessel's mouth pucker in such a way that the long draughts of cool beer after soothed the sensation.
    Somehow he knew, intuitively, that she wouldn't understand the other, and made a mental note that humans ate. If he were to be human, among them, he would need to remember to eat.
    Castiel doesn't hold a seat for Beth, though he waits till she is sitting to take her seat. It doesn't seem a thing of courtesy, though. More a thing born of needing to ascertain that they have, indeed, arrived at their destination and she is ready to settle. Once she's seated, he takes his own, directly across from her.
    "Tony," he intones, filing the name away, along with the name of the joint as proclaimed on the sign outside, and the yelled greeting from Tony himself."You have a name?" The question abbrupt, as his attention is turned from Tony, back to Beth.

Elizabeth Greene has posed:
    "I'm Beth," she replies. She is about to ask his own when Tony arrives at tableside with the pitcher of ice cold beer and two mugs. He sets them in front of each then looks at them expectantly. "We're gonna need a minute, Tony. I'll call."
    The man turns and heads back behind the counter to work on those to-go orders that are coming in endlessly.
    Beth focuses back on Castiel. "Don't now what kind of pizza you like but you can look at the menu if you want." She motions to them propped between the pepper flakes and parmesan cheese dispensers on the table. "What's your name?"

Castiel has posed:
    The menu is regarded with a modicum of suspicion, but Castiel dutifully picks one up and begins to read. "Castiel," he answers simply. It isn't a name that sits amongst and in the holy books. Few, but those who should be wary for knowing it, know it more than just a name, much like any other. He could have said Bob for all the difference it would make, and yet, it still felt correct to not put that veil between himself and others. He wasn't sure, yet, why this was so, but something told him it wasn't a necessary deception, and the truth of the name might be a blessing when it mattered.
    "I do not understand why there are so many choices? Is it not like the picture on the sign?" The menu is folded back up and after an awkward moment of holdinng it aloft, deciding between putting it back where he got it from or handing it to Beth, he finally decides to merely set it upon the table between them, to one side of the pitcher.

Elizabeth Greene has posed:
    The man has never had a pizza. Yet he knows alcohol. And he offered pizza and beer which go together so perfectly. Something so strange about him.
    Beth doesn't like mysteries. Maybe that's what brought her here. She hasn't solved this alien enigma sitting across from her. "Alright, let's try this another way. Is there anything specific you don't like? Mushrooms, peppers? If you want one like the sign outside, it's a pepperoni pizza. I usually get a supreme with no peppers and extra cheese."

Castiel has posed:
    If a man could look like a deer caught in headlights without any of the physical features that give it away, it's Castiel. Nothing about how upright he sits has changed. Nor how his hands rest upon the edge of the table. Or even in his eyes. It's just.. something intangible. And odd - why should he be caught by the matter of what to put upon a simple pizza pie?
    "Perhaps," he offers, after some consideration, "It is best if you pick a pizza. I will eat it." The vessel wasn't making noises about any of the things she said. Except.. well, the one thing. Such a small thing. "This pepperoni? It is on your supreme?" He says it like she does. Supreme. Not Supreme pizza. Just supreme.

Elizabeth Greene has posed:
    Beth tries not to giggle. Never has her asking about a pizza caused that sort of reaction. "Yes, there is pepperoni on a surpeme. Do you not like pepperoni? Or you want extra?" She's good either way, she just feels like she's talking to someone that hasn't been on the planet very long. Little does she know, she's absolutely right about that.

Castiel has posed:
    It's his mouth. And clearly it startls Castiel as well, before he can stop and ponder, a very firm "Extra" is uttered - in tones that lack the gravel and sombre connsideration of the man. Just the single word, and with utter conviction.
    "I am sorry," he says, once his composure is regained, "I do not know why I said that." Before she can ask if he is uncertain - she seems the sort who will, based on their conversation so far - "If it is not distasteful" (that's the word, isn't it? when one talks about food?) "I would like extra of the pepperoni."

Elizabeth Greene has posed:
    That does get the giggle from Beth. "Extra pepperoni it is," she says as she waves over Tony again.
    The restaurant owner comes back to their tableside. "Whatcha gonna have?"
    "We'll go with a surpreme, no peppers, extra cheese and extra pepperoni."
    "Good good, I'll get it going," Tony says as he heads back and starts building their pie.
    Beth focuses back on Castiel. "Don't apologize for wanting extra pepperoni. Nothing wrong with it. And this pizza is absolutely wonderful so you'll hopefully like it." She picks up the menu and puts it back from whence it came. She lifts the pitcher and a mug, tilting the mug so she can pour it out with just the right amount of foam. The mug is placed in front of Castiel. She pours her own then sets the pitcher aside. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Castiel. Hopefully you are enjoying your time on Earth so far?"

Castiel has posed:
    There's that considered pause again before Castiel answers. And while he thinks, the mug of beer is reached for, an unconcious nod of thanks given to the woman, the action pure reflex. It's just what you do when someone hands you a beer. He lifts the thing to his lips and sucks back a long swallow that elicits what can only be a content sigh - again, another thing at odds with all else about him, and yet it's what he does - and sets the mug down with a practiced *thunk* upon the table in front of him, fingers still twined in the handle.
    "Is it so obvious, then?" It isn't an answer. Not even by the widest of definitions.

Elizabeth Greene has posed:
    "It's kind of glaring, yeah," Beth replies as she pulls her own mug close. She doesn't take a sip yet, choosing to finish answer his question first. "Your mannerisms. Your speech. A choice of phrasing. You have no idea about a pizza but you know you like extra pepperoni. You refer to my kind as though we differ from you in some way. So yeah. It's there for anyone that has half a brain to figure it out. It's not bad, but it is obvious."
    She takes a sip of her beer, knowing it'll be a bit before the pizza gets cooked. They have a good amount of time depending on if he feels chatty. But his avoidance answer, she's guessing he isn't.

Castiel has posed:
    He listens carefully, weighing each word as it comes, expression not changing an iota as he does. Just a man caught in stasis, hand upon the handle of a mug of beer. It it weren't for the faint trace of damp along his upper lip, one might wonder more if he ever moved at all.
    Castiel allows a fractional nod. One that barely dips his chin enough to be counted motion. "It is harder than I thought," he says with quiet consideration.

Elizabeth Greene has posed:
    Beth is getting used to the pauses now. She just waits for him to answer instead of assuming that he isn't going to. It's one of his quirks. Maybe it takes time to mentally translate her words into something he understands. She takes a gulp of her beer as she waits, grabbing a cloth napkin from around her silverware. The utensils clatter to the surface of the table. She dabs her mouth with the napkin then looks to his face again just as he answers.
    "We are kind of complex, yeah," she agrees with a smile. "You're doing great, just little things. You'll figure it all out, I'm sure."

Castiel has posed:
    He doesn't smile - that is a thing that doesn't reach his lips often, yet - but there's a glimmer of warmth in the blue of his yes. A momentary, fleeting thing; a recognition of her words.
    But if her words don't make him smile, the clatter of utensils upon the table does. It's not an immediate thing, though. It comes after one of those pauses, where he watches the bits of silverware fall, and listens as the noise of them dies away. Only in the space after that, where most would have let the moment pass, his lips twitch, and a grunted hint of sound comes from the man. The vessel and the angelic deciding, it would seem, to be in agreement: there is humour in what has just happened.
    It's not an easy sound from the man, though. Castiel barely begins to laugh when he stops, as if startled by the noise that issues from himself. He almost looks like he might be wondering where the sound came from. Only half expects a comical looking about, to see if perhaps it was someone else. But, no, it was himself.
    He points with a finger to the cutlery. "It is eaten with your hands, is it not? Is that the joke?"
    The other, the matter of his fittinng in, his figuring it out, he does not speak to that. Not now.

Elizabeth Greene has posed:
    His laughter surprises Beth. Not just because it surprised him, although that is noted. It's that he found it funny she dropped her utensils. She isn't sure why that is humorous until he speaks and explains by his own question. That makes her smile and another giggle escapes. "Some people actually use them for pizza. I don't understand. But Tony serves spaghetti and stuff too, which is definitely better eaten with a fork and spoon. I'm a twirling, not a cutter," she offers as though that will make any sense to him.

Castiel has posed:
    For once there isn't that pause, the man questioning, "Spaghetti?" He says it in that long drawn out way foreigners do - Spa-get-ti. Like the word itself might jump up and strangle them if they're not careful. Clearly not a thing in his lexicon.
    The pause comes after though, and is met with a fractional cant of his head to one side, Castiel lost deep in thought before resurfacing to offer, "It was funny because you dropped them. An accident. What I do not know is does one laugh with or at you? The vessel has conflicting answers. I do not understand."
    Another pause. "I thought you much simpler than you are. This is a challenge I did not expect."

Elizabeth Greene has posed:
    For a long moment, it seems they may have reversed roles as Beth watches him in silence. Longer than is probably proper. When she answers, she is picking her words carefully. "It is always best to laugh with a person instead of at them. But as humans, we aren't always appropriate and we do laugh at people. We shouldn't but it happens. Humor is a strange thing and everyone has their own sense of it. What might be funny to one person isn't funny to another. Maybe that is why you are getting conflicting answers."
    She takes a sip of her beer before she continues. "Yeah, we're pretty complex underneath it all. We seem to just go about out lives when you're watching from up in space but we have a lot of stuff going on in our heads that makes it messier." She does have to ask. "Vessel? What does that mean?"

Castiel has posed:
    There's a sip of beer before he answers. It's a socially acceptable pause, though that may be lost on Castiel. It's another long daught, but slow. Thoughtful. "I see. We laugh with. At.." And then it hits him. The other day. It wasn't a laugh, but in a moment of epiphany, he understands, suddenly why Jen was upset with him. The woman a crackle of angry energy directed his way. "It offends when we other. I see. I did not before."
    Her question earns another pause as he sets his mug down, careful to place it exactly where it had been lifted from. "Vessel? It is this form I inhabit. We are without substance as you know it. It was necessary."

Elizabeth Greene has posed:
    A bit of tension enters Beth's form as she releases her mug and sits back.
    Before she can open her mouth, Tony arrives with the pizza. He places the pizza, which is supported on a small stand, at the end of the table with a serving utensil. Then he puts plates in front of both of them. "Need anything else?"
    "No, we're good," Beth says, not taking her eyes off Castiel. "Thanks.' Tony heads back to work.
    "Vessel you inhabit. As in the person you are inside of? Are they aware of you having taken over their body?"

Castiel has posed:
    The pause isn't so long this time, but it is still a pause. "Permission was given. He.." He sits up, and back as he thinks upon words. Finally, he finishes his sentence. "He is here and not here." There are complexities to possession that defy explaining. Not without difficult conversations. And Castiel has yet to determine if this female human has earned that yet.

Elizabeth Greene has posed:
    "He gave you permission to take over his body. To possess him." Beth tests out those words and, even with the permission, this isn't settling well with her. "Was he aware that this was kind of the whole canoli? That he would be stuffed into the background when you took over? Or did you fail to share that information with him?" She hasn't even looked at the pizza. Her eyes are locked on and her body is visibly tensed. The idea of this is setting off every warning bell in her brain.

Castiel has posed:
    There's a true compassion comes through with the man's words as he answers Beth, gaze dropped away to his mug of beer. "The vessel was tired. There were choices he would make that were worse than this. I offered an option. I had need, and he was not reluctant."
     Quietly, he takes up his beer again, and takes a small sip, the mug now cradled in both hands in an all too human, all too familiar gesture. One that sits at odds with so much of what the man has been to this point.

Elizabeth Greene has posed:
    In her line of work, Beth has dealt with people who were tired and took other options. She can see how the idea of letting someone else take the wheel for a while would be appealing to someone in that state. The compassion from Castiel is not fake or feigned. He truly feels for the person he is inside. It puts her more at ease. Her posture relaxes. Reaching over, she puts a piece of pie on each of their plates then puts her napkin in her lap since she's gonna need it. The piece she has is folded and she takes a careful bite off the tip. Temp is perfect. Hot but the cheese won't burn her tongue off. She takes another bigger bite a moment later. Only after she chews and swallows does she speak again.
    "Fair enough. If he agreed then I can't really bitch about it."

Castiel has posed:
    Castiel waits until she is eating, observing the rhyme and ritual of the thing, which is why he ends up putting a napkin in his lap as well, craggy brows furrowing together as he does so, something niggling in the back of his mind that maybe.. just maybe this is a her thing, not a human thing.
    "It was a better alternative," the angel confirms. "You could bitch?" His head tilts again, his beer set down. "Why would you be a female dog?"

Elizabeth Greene has posed:
    It's a good thing Beth had swallowed otherwise he'd be dealing with her choking. She bursts out laughing. It takes a moment to compose herself then she shakes her head. "Bitch means to complain also. I didn't think about it having more possibilities and you being new to the language." There is another version of the word but she chooses not to let him in on that one since she really doesn't think he needs to be trying to determine if a woman is a bitch or not. Give him some more time under his belt for that one.

Castiel has posed:
    Castiel watches Beth nearly choke on her mouthful of food, the barest hint of anticipation about the man, but once it's clear she's fine, by her laughter, he returns to his overly stiff position. "I see. So, it is subtle." A thing angels aren't.
    He takes up his slice and takes a tentative bite, chewling slowly, letting the flavours and sensations mingle in his mouth before swallowing and proclaiming judgement. "This is..I think I enjoy it."

Elizabeth Greene has posed:
    That gets another of those lifted brows from Beth. "You think? You're not sure?" She sounds amused still but she is making sure she isn't laughing at him. He may not be able to tell the difference and she already feels bad about laughing the first time. He doesn't seem to have taken offense. Hard to tell with him.
    "It's one of the best pizzas I've found on my few visits to New York," she admits. "Not that I've made a lot of them. Been trying to get out more. Kind of like you," she says in a teasing tone.

Castiel has posed:
    The angelic might not know all the ins and outs about pizza, but the vessel seems to, and has Castiel taking another mouthful of pizza, chewing carefully and thoughtfully before speaking again - the man a study in contrasts, "I feel like I should remember liking it. It is hard to say. We do not need food or beverage. There is no empiric basis for what you ask."