Do I look like the sharing type? This? Doesn't happen. I'm drunk. ( Freakin' wistful. Misty-eyed. And, he doesn't know if all Castiel needed to do was say it. Maybe that's all he wanted. He doesn't want more because couldn't be more.

Even now, maybe there still can't be. ) I thought the profiler would get something out of me before the -- forger? ( He pushes his chair out, readying himself to stand. His head clouds, a brief dizzy spell kicking in. Thanks, moonshine.

He needs to keep fueling up, soak the moonshine with Italian. ) You have any more of that pasta?