It's slightly more upmarket a place than Faith would normally patronize. But she's also got enough...awareness...to know what kind of bar this is when she walks in. Thirteen. Everything's in thirteens. A witch or similar built this place, the Slayer is sure of it. Stepping within, she glances around, looking for a free booth.
The place isn't too packed at present, making it easy enough to find a booth. Notably, the bartender--a non-descript man of indeterminate middle-age--makes no move to wait on her, though he does offer her a polite enough nod when she comes in. Apparently, this is a self-service sort of establishment.
In that case...well, first she's going to get the attention of the self-claimed angel. Then, leaving her coat to claim the table, she heads for the bar and asks for "Something dark and hoppy." She's not familiar with most of the local brews.
The bartender, Mac, gives Faith a once-over--more a quick assessment for trouble than anything thing else--and gives another nod, saying nothing. A moment later, he sets a nondescript brown bottle in front of her, no glass. Apparently, this place keeps it very simple. He jerks a thumb at the menu--a hand-lettered chalkboard above the bar that offers a short list of offerings, many involving steak and fries--then resumes polishing the bartop.
It's a moment later that Castiel enters the bar, looking around warily. This is the sort of place where he might actually be recognized for what he is, which is all well and good--until you find someone with a grudge against angels. He descends the steps, then crosses over to take stand beside Faith. He returns Mac's questioning look with a slight shake of his head, then turns to regard the slayer. He speaks in his usual rough tone, without preamble. "You called?"
Faith Lehane turns slightly from the bar as Mac pulls her pint. "I just want to talk." She wants to know for sure that he is what he claims--although the fact that he came? It's one more piece of evidence in his favor.
Castiel nods, glancing around, and asks, "Do you wish to speak here at the bar, or would you prefer a booth?" As for Mac, he turns back to whatever he was doing before, apparently having no time for someone not buying.
"I already claimed a booth." She snags her beer. "Just wanted something to lubricate with."
Castiel nods, then, and follows Faith back to her booth, sitting once she's done so. "Well. I'm here. What did you want to speak about?"
"Frankly. I'm very concerned about what's going on. I know there's an apocalypse somewhere pretty much every week, but..."
Nodding, Castiel says, "As am I. Fortunately, the parties behind this seem to be moving... slowly. There's time to attempt to discover what their larger plan might be." He frowns. "Unfortunately, I'm afraid that my information about that is... limited."
"They don't tell you everything either, eh?" She takes a sip of her beer. "And, okay. Time's good. I'll admit I'm mostly good for killing things." Which Faith assumes Castiel knows if he's what he claims to be.
Castiel inclines his head somewhat. "I suppose that much is in the title, 'slayer.' Still, this may not be quite as simple as to be solved with a stake through the heart. I fear something much more... nefarious... at work." And he uses the word nefarious without even a hint of irony.
"Eh, so do I. But nefarious things tend to have minions and the like that are vulnerable to things like that." He knows who she is. Another point in his favor. "You know who I am."
"You were--how does the expression go?" Castiel looks thoughtful for a moment, and then he adds, with the tone of one employing a phrase for the first time, "'A slayer before it was cool'? Yes, we are... well aware of you. Your career has certainly been... interesting."
Faith Lehane shrugs. "I'm under control," she says, sipping her beer then setting it down, looking at her hands for a moment before returning her gaze to the angel.
Castiel's brow furrows. "I... not concerned about your control or its lack. I don't meant to sound callous, but... that's simply not my area. Heaven considers you an asset, which means you are my ally." He stats this as a simple and unequivocal fact. Then he frowns. "I do wish I knew more. I'm afraid that, apart from an awareness that Beacon Hills continues to draw attention--which may or may not be directly relevant--I have not been given further information or instructions."
"There's a wolf pack there. Do you know if they're good or bad?" Because...she's got plans in that regard, but she wants to have some knowledge of what kind of weres she's dealing with.
"That... is an interesting question," Castiel says, awkwardly attempting to hedge the answer. "Objectively, that depends on your... perspective. They appear to be interested in defending human life, but they have also done... certain reckless things. However, they remain unaligned in the struggles between Heaven and Hell, so they too fall outside my purview."
Faith Lehane nods. "I'm going to swing by and chat with some fuzzballs then. I don't care what they do as long as they aren't eating people or converting them against their will." Practical slayer philosophy, apparently.
"I see no harm in that," Castiel acknowledges. It may be they have some information that may be of use to you, but... I'm afraid that I cannot conceive of what that might be." He sits back a bit in the booth, almost looking frustrated for a moment... but it passes.
Faith Lehane nods. "That's exactly what I'm thinking, and if I play my cards right, maybe we can get them to keep an eye on the trouble there. It's their turf, after all."
Nodding, Castiel says, "It seems a sensible option, yes." He hesitates a moment, then asks, "Have you... spoken recently to Dean Winchester? It was my understanding that he was working in cooperation with your group."
Faith Lehane nods. "We talked. I like him," Faith adds, with a slight grin. "I think we have a fair bit in common, even if he is a guy."
Castiel gives a slow nod. "Do you believe that he'll assist with this problem? I had considered him a likely... asset... but his reactions have been... troubling."
"He does at least seem to be convinced that you're...not some crazy guy." Faith shrugs. "Of course, you could be a crazy guy and in contact with the Powers That Be."
That brings a surprised, slightly puzzled expression. "That... would be an odd case. And I believe that Dean accepts the reality of what I am. I also believe... that he holds a grudge against me for it. It is... troubling."
Faith Lehane shrugs. "I'm talking about prophets. Ya know. If they aren't mad to start with, sometimes they end up that way." Cordelia kept herself fairly sane, but...Cordelia was a lot tougher than many gave her credit for. "Eh. I don't exactly entirely trust the PTB myself. no offense."
Inclining his head, Castiel says, "I suppose I must accept the reality of the situation, despite my preference." He raises an eyebrow slightly. "As to prophets, yes, some can be quite... eccentric. But I assure you, I do not speak prophecy. What I can tell is only that which has been observed, nothing more."
Faith Lehane nods. "Alright. That's probably easier anyway. It seems to be pretty much a law that prophets are only allowed to talk in riddles."
"Prophets and seers are somewhat different," Castiel says, managing a nearly conversational tone. "A seer receives visions, which may reveal the future. A true prophet is given a much fuller revelation and is usually compelled to record it in some fashion. True prophets are also generally under the direct protection of the Archangels." Which puts them, so to speak, above his pay grade.
Faith Lehane ahs. "I'm getting my terminology confused, then." She shrugs with a grin. "They never did like to let me in the library." Faith having the patience for book learning and research? Not when there are vampires to stake.
Castiel gives a mild shrug. "To be honest, it's plausible that others' terminology would differ from my own. In my experience, Divine authority does not, no matter what some might think, extend to language." A beat, and he adds gravely, "Certainly not to English."
At that, Faith laughs brightly. "English might be better off for a bit of divine authority, at least according to the people I know who've tried to learn it."
Castiel tilts his head slightly, conceding. "Perhaps, though at the same time, its organic nature may be the source of its charm. However, as I am not a linguist, I can only offer the barest speculation. Most of what I mention, I've heard from those of a more literary mindset than myself."
"In any case, I like the guy." She would. She probably drank him under the table already.
"He is... a good man," Castiel agrees, though something in his manner still seems troubled. After a moment's silence, he asks, "Well. Did you need anything more?"
Faith Lehane shakes her head. "No." She grins. "You've convinced me you're who you say you are." Yeah, she had doubts, but the very fact that he seems to have limits helps.
Nodding, Castiel slides out of the booth and stands. "I'm pleased to be able to offer reassurance, then. I'm sorry I can't offer more direct assistance, however."
Faith Lehane nods. "Against the rules, right?" Her lips quirk into half a smile.
"That... is a way to look at it, yes," he says, then gives a polite nod. "I wish you well, slayer."