There was something very troubling about Jack having his own room here at the club, although Castiel couldn't figure out quite what that was. He glanced at the plaque, however, as they stepped away from it, away from the hum of voices and sex within, feeling his concern deepen. What if this man wanted to have sex here, now, and at length, and had no intention of taking him to the VIP room at all? How would he watch for Loki then?
He felt another flutter of panic at the threat to his clothes, inclined to open his mouth and respond. He'd need them back in order to leave, but moreover he was attached to his coat. It was symbolic of...he didn't know what. But without it, he just wasn't himself.
He'd have to fetch them back before he went. Fortunately he could fly back in here himself, he wouldn't need the key.
Castiel stepped inside once gestured, moving out into the center of the room, even though he hadn't been directed to any one place in particular. Removing his clothes wasn't something he was infinitely practiced at, at least not in a physical, practical way, and so it made him hesitate almost naturally before he removed each item of clothing, taking off the coat first, and hanging it across his arm as he removed his tie, and plucked open the buttons of his shirt. He faltered, with one hand busy holding his clothes, unable to get the dress jacket and shirt off without first putting the clothes down--and the floor wouldn't do, didn't even occur to him. Not even Sam and Dean abandoned their clothes on the floor, and he hadn't learned the habit.
He moved for the bed to lay his things down, instead, and only then would he remove the rest of his clothing, one item at a time, with almost utilitarian focus on each task.
no subject
He felt another flutter of panic at the threat to his clothes, inclined to open his mouth and respond. He'd need them back in order to leave, but moreover he was attached to his coat. It was symbolic of...he didn't know what. But without it, he just wasn't himself.
He'd have to fetch them back before he went. Fortunately he could fly back in here himself, he wouldn't need the key.
Castiel stepped inside once gestured, moving out into the center of the room, even though he hadn't been directed to any one place in particular. Removing his clothes wasn't something he was infinitely practiced at, at least not in a physical, practical way, and so it made him hesitate almost naturally before he removed each item of clothing, taking off the coat first, and hanging it across his arm as he removed his tie, and plucked open the buttons of his shirt. He faltered, with one hand busy holding his clothes, unable to get the dress jacket and shirt off without first putting the clothes down--and the floor wouldn't do, didn't even occur to him. Not even Sam and Dean abandoned their clothes on the floor, and he hadn't learned the habit.
He moved for the bed to lay his things down, instead, and only then would he remove the rest of his clothing, one item at a time, with almost utilitarian focus on each task.