[ he doesn't have an answer for any question hannibal asks, except the last. even then, it's tenuous at best. his adam's apple moves in his throat as he watches the painting, wondering. has he already accepted defeat? he's a fish on a line, lip hooked. thrashing until he can't. going limp and thrashing again. gutted anyway, in the end. even with dean here, alive, he can't imagine himself a good future.
castiel chews his lip and lowers his eyes. ]
I don't know.
[ he smells different today than the day he and hannibal met. the bunker clings to his clothes and his hair and his skin. leather and gun oil and other human scents. ]
no subject
castiel chews his lip and lowers his eyes. ]
I don't know.
[ he smells different today than the day he and hannibal met. the bunker clings to his clothes and his hair and his skin. leather and gun oil and other human scents. ]