[ Jo goes still, and there is a blink, in which she watches Cas' mouth continue to form words, but her brain has stopped following what the sounds coming from his mouth actually mean. No. That's a lie. She can hear the words. She even recognizes them. They sound like what Geralt said. But it's like background music.
A strange, too-high piercing tone in her ears suddenly over it. While Cas is looking at his lap instead of at her, which suddenly feels intensely personal.
[ It shoots out, too ricochet sharp. Jo doesn't know how to answer a blow to any part of herself except with one in return. Because that makes no sense. Because Dean is. (He's not Dean, a small, far too rational tea kettle screeches down a rapidly distancing hallway.) And he'd spiraled the fuck out at her after Swingers Dinner. (He's not Dean.) And the picture. A few weeks ago. And the goddamn faint blue glow below her vision. (He's not—but the sum total of her could not give a full fuck about anything logical for one loud, screeching static slam.) ]
no subject
A strange, too-high piercing tone in her ears suddenly over it.
While Cas is looking at his lap instead of at her,
which suddenly feels intensely personal.
(Like how Sam looked at her;
after what happened.)
Because it fucking is. ]'
Wait. He was what?
[ It shoots out, too ricochet sharp. Jo doesn't know how to answer a blow to any part of herself except with one in return. Because that makes no sense. Because Dean is. (He's not Dean, a small, far too rational tea kettle screeches down a rapidly distancing hallway.) And he'd spiraled the fuck out at her after Swingers Dinner. (He's not Dean.) And the picture. A few weeks ago. And the goddamn faint blue glow below her vision. (He's not—but the sum total of her could not give a full fuck about anything logical for one loud, screeching static slam.) ]