Castiel doesn't turn his body to face this new intruder at first, but that's simply because he doesn't have to. Dozens of eyes - circling his halos, on his shoulders, his wings, and least unnerving of all exactly where they're supposed to be on three of his four faces, with the crow's head pointing most directly at him - swivel to look at Dorian all at once, fixing him in their piercing, judgmental gaze.

"I'm going to assume that was some kind of blasphemy," he says, in four synchronized voices that sound like whispers but are much too loud. He sounds very, very tired.