"Just a little," he says, sarcastically. This wouldn't happen if he was home- he'd have all his powers, things would make sense, and he wouldn't be sitting here on his last legs, hiding like a fucking dog. He's an Archangel for Christ's sake- an archangel and a god for that matter. That thing oughta be halfway to Hell by now.

"The way we're headin' I don't think we're gettin' much choice," he says, trying to keep some of the light sarcasm in his voice, although it's fading. For a moment, he just stares at her, not quite defeated, but desperate, all the same. It's the same shaky look he gave her back in her room before it turned into something else.

It's also gone just as quickly. He grimaces and sits up a bit. "This day sucks."

He glances out towards where the skinwalker's searching for them and frowns. "Okay, new plan. One that doesn't put our insides on our outsides. Got any of those, Lancelot?"