"Life and experience does tend to temper one's definition of 'strange.'"

Castiel gratefully takes the chair.

It's not so much that he's tired. Strictly speaking, his vessel does not get tired while he inhabits it.

But he will admit to being drained a bit by the past few months. The journey into Hell. The fighting that has gone on since.

Castiel looks at the pictures. The bulletin board. Around the small room.

"You are doing well."

He is proud of this person Meg has become. Is still becoming. Even though he knows he has no real right to claim such pride.