Kahlil's temple is always open to familiar faces and strangers alike, for the most part. Anyone is free to wander the outer grounds to pick fruit or enjoy the sound of the gentle stream that circles the structure. They can enter the massive, open doors and gaze up at the iron tree or the glass dome into a daylight or starry sky. They can drink tea or peruse books on the shelves, though almost all of them are blank.

It's later in the month that Kahlil spends more time here, when he can be found - when fate decides that he's meant to meet whoever has wandered in today. Dressed in a grey cassock he's kneeling by the base of the tree when he hears and feels someone enter. Recognizes the voice too, though he can't completely place it until he stands and turns to face him. Dean. The one who runs the bar. The cursed man. He hasn't thought about him in the past month, not with everything else demanding his attention.

"If you're looking for the gas station it's next door," he says casually, cocking his head to the side. There's no immediate tension or anything to give away that he knows there's something not quite right with this man. There's nothing Kahlil has to fear from him in his domain. Dean doesn't even know his connection to Lucifer, as far as he knows. It's even possible Dean doesn't remember him, it's been a long while since he's stopped by the Roadhouse - but he imagines he's the type of man with a sharp memory.

"Long time no see."