[ well, that's a question. his brow furrows. it's difficult to give specifics, since he's spent so long watching at a distance, that he has personal, first-hand experience with very few aspects of humans as a species. he likes their art, their creativity, their ingenuity. all the things they've made, art, languages, machines — the angels, by comparison, have only one language. they need no machines, no tools, so there's never been able need for them to create. and they have nothing to express, except their love for their god, and they can do that well enough through the glory of their own voices. so no art.
but is that really his favorite thing?
humans also have faith in a way that no angel could possibly comprehend — he certainly can't. but that stings to even think.
but then, harold mentions fancy dinner parties as a counter example, and he wonders if he might be looking for a more specific answer. not something broad, like, creativity or faith. castiel tilts his head in thought. ]
I like... The sound of your laughter. The way you smile when you're happy.
[ a sympathetic smile tugs the corners of his lips before his face fades back to neutral. it seems like he might be thinking of a specific moment. or maybe a specific person. ]
no subject
but is that really his favorite thing?
humans also have faith in a way that no angel could possibly comprehend — he certainly can't. but that stings to even think.
but then, harold mentions fancy dinner parties as a counter example, and he wonders if he might be looking for a more specific answer. not something broad, like, creativity or faith. castiel tilts his head in thought. ]
I like... The sound of your laughter. The way you smile when you're happy.
[ a sympathetic smile tugs the corners of his lips before his face fades back to neutral. it seems like he might be thinking of a specific moment. or maybe a specific person. ]
It doesn't happen very often, does it?