They nod quietly. Silently. Nothing ever felt right unless it was the familiar rails: mission prep, mission briefing, gear up, travel to the mission site, kill someone. Even that. Not right. Just... the way it was supposed to be. The way it had to be, in order to be finished and go back to cryo.

"Nothing to admire," is what comes out, staring at their hands, folded between their knees. Still true, ain't it. Couldn't stop Crowley and Aziraphale from dying, from going away. Couldn't stop Scarlett. Couldn't stop hurting Steve until it was too late.