Shit. The Soldier is not good at this. The Sergeant isn't really any better, and pointedly refuses to come out and help. (I'm gonna remember that, though. That's a damn good way of referring to Crowley. Only bright when it's convenient.) They hesitantly kind of... squeeze his shoulder, kneading a little like a cat might, as if that might help. Touch isn't their strong point, okay. "The church. It's where I woke up. It won't be until tomorrow, at least. Probably longer."