6641/The Date: Not Enough Boilermakers

The Date: Not Enough Boilermakers
Date of Scene:	24 February 2019
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Castiel and Micah head out for a few drinks after the 'suit' shopping, and discuss matters Divine and date, of which 'the Date' proves to be more intimidating to the angel.
Cast of Characters:	Castiel, Foxfire, Constantine

---

Castiel has posed:
To say that suit shopping with Castiel had been traumatic for all involved would be putting it lightly. But suits were procured: One for the 'big date' and a couple others that were proclaimed not only good fits, but would 'be useful'.

Castiel had grumbled, but it had been insisted upon, and in the end, in order to be done with the experience, the angel had finally aquiesced, declaring he needed a drink.

"A flight of drinks. No. An Apocalypse. Maybe both." His brows knit together in anticipation of the things. Adding gruffly, "You can come if you want. I know a place."

Which is how he and Micah ended up at Josie's.. Mind you, Micah might not have expected *how* they were getting there, and it wasn't like Castiel gave a prior warning. He just took Micah with him. One moment at the tailor's. The next at Josie's.

Thankfully it was just busy enough at Josie's that nobody noticed quite how abruptly Castiel and company showed up, the angel heading to the bar and making his order. A flight and an Apocalypse. He gets a raised brow, but the drinks do arrive.

Foxfire has posed:
It had taken Micah a couple of minutes and one slightly ill advised question about 'Einstein-Rosenbridge' to get his bearings. It's hardly a secret that there exist beings capable of performing feats in flagrant defiance of established physical laws. But your average person, even your average SHIELD trainee with a CIA background, does not expect to be subjected to them. Even after being told that Castiel is 'from Above' it still took him off goard.

Micah just gets a beer. Beer is good. "So I take it that temperance is not a job requirement?"

Angels. And demons. He's still trying to wrap his head around that one.

Castiel has posed:
Castiel snorts at Micah. "Lacking in your theology, huh? Pretty sure there's a story around about Our Lord turning water into wine." He shrugs, downing first one, and then another of his flight of whiskey. "Don't see any reason not to drink. Besides, the vessel is fond of the stuff."

Though these days it was just as much Castiel who was fond of the stuff - or at least the human ritual of it - than it was the body remembering.

"I still do not understand why so many suits. And I do not think what that man did with that tape of measuring was normal."

Speaking, of course, about measuring Castiel's inseam. "And before you ask, yes, I have all the working parts. All of them."

He glares at Micah, as if challening the younger man to gainsay him on that matter, or ask for proof.

Foxfire has posed:
Micah is possibly not willing to do the empirical research required to see if Castiel has all the working parts so there won't be a challenge there. Indeed the physicist just looks down at his drink and takes another pull at the bottle.

"A bit lacking? Not that I don't believe but physics was always more my calling, not metaphysics. Though when you start getting into the realms I usually tread in I guess you could make the argument for the distinction being pretty thin."

Ask him sometime about the delayed choice quantum eraser experiment. Actually no. Don't ask him about that.

"Ah well, well fitted suits require exacting measurements. But normal it's not. Most people don't do that regularly. And those in fashion would tell you there's a suit for every occasion. Still if you keep this one in good repair it should serve you well for pretty well any formal function." Beat. "Do you, uh, anticipate more formal functions with the Director? N-not that it's really any of my business. Just curious, you know."

Castiel has posed:
Micah is treated to an uplift of unkempot brow, "Just who do you think created metaphysics? Laws of the Universe work for a reason. Even if you think you know all there is to know about them." The implication being that Humanity, and Micah in particular, had barely scratched the surface of such things.

"The Will and the Word," he says pointedly. "Of course I don't do magic, so take that like you want." He salutes Micah with another of his whiskey, the flight of five now down to two with a neat little chaser of the Four Horsement.

"Told you that man had his hands too close to my particulars. I could have smote him, you know." The third drink downed in quick fashion, the angle waving the empty glass at Josie, "Beer to wash this down with. More boiler in my makers."

Then back to Micah, "The body didn't have much memory of formal occassions. And it isn't like the Choir is holding damned dinner parties on the drop of a hat. We have better things to do to entertain ourselves." Though when in Rome, right?

Foxfire has posed:
"No physicist thinks that." Micah laughs. Physics is far too weird at the high levels for anyone who studies it to have the impression that humanity has a handle on it. Though some are closer to that than others. This one does at least appear to have a dose of humility.

The SHIELD agent watches Castiel knock back the alcohol with some amusement, in relatively quick succession. How well does an angel hold his liquor, he wonders.

Then something else catches his attention. Not the question of 'what do angels do to entertain themselves' but more along the lines of...

"You keep saying 'this body' as though it's not yours. Are you... borrowing someone? Are they still in there?"

Castiel has posed:
Castiel waits until his beer is delivered - a single pint glass amidst the wreck of whiskey shotglasses collecting about him. "Hrm? Oh, the body."

There's another of those shrugs. "It's complicated. Borrowing is close. Easiest to say he was done with it, and I needed a vessel. The offer was agreeable." There's a softening of the angel's features. "He's happier, I think."

The notion is mostly discarded as Castiel regards Micah. "You're a physics boy, then? Think you understand the mysteries of the universe?" A grunt of amusement escapes him. "Suppose if I were you, I might, too. What you can't comprehend may as well not exist. It's about the same as undertanding it all."

Until you don't.

Foxfire has posed:
"The universe? We can't even get physics stuffed into a neat little unified field theory. I'll pass on claiming to understand the universe." Micah laugs again and takes another drink of his beer.

"If I were to flatter us I'd say that we've got a fairly good handle on the things that go on, on the surface of this planet that we can see." Which is a really limited set of restrictions and evne then Micah knows a good argument could be made that humanity does NOT understand that.

And he might agree. Especially given what HE works with all the time.

"So... forgive me for asking but is he dead? Like... poof, gone? And you moved in? Or... is it more of a, er, timeshare arrangement?" Timeshare. No that's probably a bad analogy. Castiel doesn't seem like a scammer.

Castiel has posed:
There's another grunt from Castiel, who shrugs, his trench coat a tight line across the back of his body as he hunches over the bar. "More things than you can see going on," he remarks cryptically. Speaking of things both seen and unseen. Like himself - were you to not know his secret, he looks just like another unkempt human being with a fondness for the booze and cheap pubs. With the right vision, however...

"Not dead," he says quietly. It has been a long while since he's considered the body's former owner. "That was the deal. He let me use the body, and he didn't die with his soul in peril. Funny thing is, the Lord isn't so concerned with how you die as you might think. But he believed he'd be damned for eternity. Turns out, Faith is real. There's an act of physics you can't deny."

More gruffly, he says, "He's still there. Just unaware."

Foxfire has posed:
"Oh." Micah has to think about that for a little bit. It's not something he thinks he'd especially want but whomever had that body before apparently did and apparently is getting something out of it. Like not being damned.

The physicist himself was never an athiest. Not especially faithful but never an unbeliever. Even had that not been the case though being confronted with the very real appearance of a being claiming to be an angel would be bound to cause some re-evaluation.

"So if you don't mind my asking... what do you do when you're not... er... doing this? Protecting Director May and all.."

Castiel has posed:
"Faith is a funny thing," the angel says thougthfully, sipping his beer. One whiskey of the flight, and the Apocalypse remain. "None of you have it wrong. Not really. He's not concerned with what names you give Him. That whole Free Will thing means more than you think."

His glass is put down, and his fingers rest against the thick walled vessel, looking distracted before looking up, "What? Huh? What do I do?"

Castiel's lips curl about a snarl of a smirk. "Less protection than keeping an eye out for her. You humans can be fragile in the right circumstances. She wouldn't thank me for it, but there are some things she might be glad of the help with." He makes a soft grunt of sound. "All of you. As for do, I was of the Choir. Lately, less so. Turns out while you might have Free Will, mine is a little more circumscribed. Save one soul you're not supposed to and the Lord gets snippy. Then there's that asshole of a right hand man of His - no, not Jesus. Anyway, decided I was done with watching you be pawns. Mostly I guess you can say I'm looking for answers."

A pause. "You?"

Foxfire has posed:
"Most people would ask you if you had any, I think. What's it like when you die. Is God real. What's He like. All that." Another sip of beer and the scientist-agent thinks a bit. "Don't suppose you're allowed to say."

Micah's not really looking for answers himself. He suspects Castiel just told him humanity is largely asking the wrong questions.

"Me? Science, a lot of it. Even on my spare time. I have a... you could call it a personal project. Came from above. Er, not your kind of above. From the stars. It's... weird. And breaks a lot of the rules we think we know. Thought we knew. Whichever."

Castiel has posed:
"From above, huh? And not my kind of above." Castiel nods his head, and that snarl of a smirk slides into something truly amused. "Surprised you're not more offended to know you're not the be all and end all of the Universe. The early Church was rather put out to find they weren't His only and eternal focus."

Another shrug as he reaches for the last of his flight, lifting the glass to nearly his lips before speaking again, "Rules are just what you think you know. Not so much that's absolute other than Him. One of the Great Wonders."

He nods, "He's real. He's not as impressive as you might think for someone who weilds ultimate power, and he's been known to be cranky."

Ironic coming from Castiel who isn't known for being the soul of comfort and joy, or pleasantries.

Foxfire has posed:
"We kind of were. But when there are people on this world contolling fundamental forces of the universe the sliding scale of weirdness makes people a lot more amenable to the possibility. Whether or not they LIKE it is another question entirely."

Micah goes to take another drink of his beer only to find that he's drained it. So he signals for another. He should probably go easy. He has to drive later.

"I was more offended when it started messing with me physically. Well, offended isn't the right word. Terrified is the right word. Wait. ONE of the great wonders?"

Constantine has posed:
Wait at any bar long enough and John Constantine will appear. This time his bar of choice is Josie's and the warlock slouches in looking his usual disreputable self, a cigarette hanging from his lips as he makes his way over to the bar, "Cas old mate, what's the good word?" he asks the angel recognizing him, if not looking directly at him. John could see what was under that human looking shell, it was hard to look at without a few drinks first, especially for a man like John. "An' who's your firend? An' what's been messing with him?" he says expecting it to be something on his side of the street given he was keeping company with an angel.

Castiel has posed:
There's an almost bark of a laugh from the angel. "Boy, you humans have a lot to learn about things." He says it like humanity is not only amusing, but quaint in the way small children are. "And messing with you personally, huh? Just who are we talking about? Not often your kind are that interesting to the outliers."

John's arrival gets a grunt of acknowledgement. "Constantine. See you haven't died yet. Still look like hell." Either knowing he's made a joke and not caring, or being totally oblivious to the matter. "He's Micah. Some Agent of SHIELD babysitting me." Also said with amusement, all things considered. He reaches up and brushes a finger beneath his nose, before reaching out to grab the first of his Apocalypse. "You'll appreciate this, warlock, going on a date. I bought a suit." All said with notes of disbelief, like he's somehow entered the Twilight Zone, if celestials even have such bizarre things happen to them. "That one," he nods with his chin towards Micah, "Didn't like the pinstripes. Or the white." A snort from Cas. "I didn't like the white, either. Smacked of Michael."

His nostrils flare like he's just smelled something beyond foul.

Foxfire has posed:
Micah watches the two carefully. Constantine looks just about as well kempt as Castiel and he does briefly wonder if they're related. Warlock huh? Despite presenting largely as a scientist, he is a trained intelligence agent with field experience. He knows how to watch. And learn.

"Less babysitting you than your fashion sense. But I think you wound up with something good. At the very least, Director May won't have a problem with the way you're dressed."

The next passage of conversation makes him blink a little. "Messing with me? No one at the moment. Well, if anything is messing with me it's not a person."

The agent pulls his collar back away from his neck and turns slightly. There's a scar at the base of his spine surrounded by oddly discolored tissue. "Not messing with me at present though. I'm Micah by the way. It's Constantine, is it? As in... Emperor?" That's a joke, presumably.

Constantine has posed:
John grins, "Nah, haven't kicked yet, much to the regret of your side, an' the other for that matter," he says lightly and orders a whiskey for himself then.

Though Cas' revelation earns a skeptical look from the Warlock. "A date? Who with?" then Micah fills him in on that score, with that Director May remark. "Director? You taking someone from SHIELD out on a date?" he shakes his head. "Enjoy your cell, mate."

As for Micah the man gets a nod and a card is slid across the table. "Nah, like the warlock," he says with a grin for the joke. "But rare to find someone this side of the pond to make the connection."

The card reads:

John Constantine
Exorcist, Demonologist, and Master of the Dark Arts
201-555-7182

When Micah shows off his scar, John makes a face. "What the bloody hell did that?"

Castiel has posed:
Castiel snorts at John, and down his drink. "You did it to yourself, you know." Implying both culpability, and were John privy to earlier conversation, Castiel's statement that humanity is bound more by their own Faith than anything the Divine might have in store for him. As to the date, "Wasn't given a choice. If you met her, you'd understand." Smirking. "Mate."

Castiel taking a moment's amusement in teasing John as it were.

"Wouldn't touch the card if I were you," Cas warns Micah. "His kind like to enchant such things." Not that Castiel can tell if it is enchanted or not - his knowledge extends only to a complete understanding of magic, not an actual ability to perform it, and outside the bounds of things that his angelic sight can detect, he can't detect magic either.

"Could fix that for you," he says calmly of the scar. "I'm with the warlock, though. What got you? I know some boys might be able to help you out if it's less than human." A thoughtful pause. "Or not alien. They don't do alien."

Foxfire has posed:
The next beer comes and Micah reaches for that card... only to draw his hand back uncertainly, looking between the angel and the warlock. "Uh..."

Ahem. It's the question of what happened to him that focuses him and Micah winces at the memory. "It was alien, but it's not alive. It was, well, is a piece of tech. A battery, I thought. I was wrong. And when I turned it on it did imprompty spinal surgery on me. I thought it was gonna kill me."

"I wouldn't mind the scar going away. Whatever the things in my spine are... might need to stay there. I don't know what they did. And they linked me to the tech somehow. I'm using it for something and I'm not sure if it would put them back if it found them missing. Or just... blow up."

Constantine has posed:
"Well, might like to meet the woman who can boss you around," John says with a laugh.

As for the card, well, he snorts. "Bollux, would not enchant those things, those cards are how I get work," a beat. "An' dates."

He shakes his head.

As for what happened to Micah, John sucks in a breath. "Christ," he says before giving Cas a pointed look, daring him to call him on the blasphemy. "Sounds less like science and more like dark bloody magic mate," he says with genuine sympathy and a little bit of amazement. "Though when it comes to healing wounds, well," he pats Cas hard on the shoulder. "This one's your man for that," he says. "Brought a bloke back to life once, so the story goes."

Another, sketchier man enters and takes a seat at the back of the bar, John's eyes following him until he's settled. John takes his whiskey and then nods to the angel and the agent, "Got to see a man about a dog," he says. "But you two take care, yeah?" he extends his free hand to Micah. "Good to meet you, an' don't trust this one," he says with a nod to Cas. "He's no good."

Castiel has posed:
"You're a self proclaimed, and Damned, warlock," Castiel points out. "I think it fair to say watch out for your cards. Not my problem, though." Not really. Even if Castiel proclaimed gruff indifference to humanity on one hand, while stumbling in ill advisedly to save them from themselves, Heaven, and Hell, on the other.

"Learned my lesson with the Barton boy. Scars are okay, though." Of Micah's skeleton. Though, it had been healing those scars that had given Clint back his healing, so a little bit of a lie there, if of omission and not having to fully explain more than outright.

Another of his Apocalypse drinks are lifted in salute to John as he excuses himself. "Might introduce you to her some day. Wouldn't advise trying to pick her up, though. She hits. Hard."

Foxfire has posed:
Micah does shake John's hand though. If that's enchanted well, he'll just have to wear that. It does occur to the scientist-agent to wonder briefly how he'd know. He probably wouldn't. And if he didn't know would it really be a problem?

That's a question for another day. "Nice to meet you, Constantine. And it might be a bit like black magic. That's certainly what it's done to my understanding of physics."

Exotic high energy plasma is WEIRD.

"She does have a bit of a reputation. But if you decide to do that, I'd like to watch." It'd be amusing and Micah loves entertainment. He grins a little. He's joking.

Sort of. Seriously, he'd love to be a fly on the wall for that theoretical exchange.

r"Wait, what'd you do to Clint, Castiel?"

Constantine has posed:
John cocks his head. "Fair point," he allows to Castiel about the cards, though smiling to Micah, he says, "Didn't do anything to that one though."

As for this Director May, John chuckles and says, "Sounds like fun, if I decide to do it, I'll give you lot a call. Until then, enjoy," John says before heading off to meet with his contact.

Castiel has posed:
"I healed him," Castiel says gruffly of Clint. "Barton hurt himself fighting me. We decided to understand one another. It wasn't entirely planned to return his hearing."

He points out, "They were scars, but if I'd known..." He shrugs. Then again, all things considered he probably would have healed the man anyway. Hearing and all. But exoskeletons were a whole other matter. Castiel could heal wounds - not buildings, which was essentially what Micah was describing, inner scaffolding of a sort.

Foxfire has posed:
"Ah." Micah is not surprised that Clint hurt himself fighting. Agent Barton also has a reputation though it is perhaps somewhat mythical. People say a lot of things but how many of them have ever seen them? Still, Clint is a fighter, there's no doubt about that.

"Well I'm sure he appreciates having his hearing back. I don't know what your... abilities do but I also don't know what alien biotech might do if you tried to 'heal' it. I appreciate the offer though."

What if healing made them expand somehow? One spine shattering experience was enough. Of course they might just vanish. Which might not be bad. He'd show up on X-rays again. But the Foxfire Module might object to that.

"So when is this... thing that you and Director May are going on? And are you expecting, er, divine kinds of trouble?"

Castiel has posed:
"Thing? You mean the date?" Castiel gives Micah a long look before answering. "I don't expect Divine anything. I was told she wished to be taken on a date. I am taking her on a date."

He says it matter of factly - almost too assertively so, as though convincing himself about this whole date thing as much as Micah. Castiel still wasn't sure about the whole command performace aspect of taking the woman out, but Darcy implied May was interested, and as Castiel had already asserted, she wasn't a woman one said no to lightly.

"You can keep your alien biotech. I'm an angel, not an engineer."

Foxfire has posed:
"Date, yes, that. Sorry it's a bit weird for me to think of someone taking out the Director on a date. Not weird for you, I assume." Oh yes, Micah picked up on the assertiveness but interprets that as Castiel informing him that everything is normal.

And so far as Micah knows, everything IS indeed normal. Or at least as normal as they get with a member of the Choir around. The Choir? A Choir? He wonders briefly if there is also an orchestra. Probably not.

"You're, um, conversant with general date etiquette, yeah? I'm only asking because the whole clothing part seemed new to you." Because Castiel might know all about the ins and outs of social behavior and custom.

Buuuuut he might not. And gruff angel or not Micah would rather not hear about this going badly later.

Castiel has posed:
"Of course I know how to date," Castiel bites out gruffly. "Agent Darcy has taught me all the utensils and how to attend to a chair. I am to treat Agent May like a lady, with a soft feminine core, without insulting her, or causing injury."

He says that all rotely, like he's been made to repeat it, or at least heard it enough times to memorize it, with a goodly dash of 'and I'll hurt you if you don't - after May hurts you first'.

"This dating seems to be very complicated."

Foxfire has posed:
Director May? Soft feminine core? Sure. Maybe. Micah doesn't know the woman personally. So that might be. Seems... a bit far from her reptuation though. Hopefully that... works out well for Castiel.

"Um. Yes... that... that should be fine."

The agent takes another drink of his fresh beer and sets it down. He'll get a cab. He was teleported here anyway so he'll have to.

"Well... good luck. Or break a leg. Whichever is appropriate."

Castiel has posed:
Castiel settles down to some introspective drinking. He's not entirely sure Agent May has a soft feminine core either, but he was told she does and that he was going to respect that fact... or else.. and it seemed to him a wisdom not to get either of Darcy or May angry with him. Laughable, considering what he is, and that he was one of the premiete warriors of the Lord - or was before his Fall.

He'd send Micah home, but the other has already left, and well, frankly, sometimes such things are an effort. Where effort equals annoyance, and he'd had a busy enough day catering to human whims.

"Three suits," he mutters as he orders more to drink. "Three. I have one vessel and they wish me to clothe it in three suits."

It makes no sense to him, but then again, much of humanity was still a mystery to him. Tomorrow? Tomorrow he'd ask Agent May out on this date. The sooner he got this over with the better.

And with that thought firmly in his mind the angel lets his thoughts drift to other matters... like what was that elder Winchester boy up to, and for that matter where'd his younger idiot brother run off to without warning?