[Is that a sentence that really just came out of your mouth, Gabriel? Michael looks appropriately incredulous for a moment, a hint of irritation drawing his brows low, but then he smooths it over with false calm.]

We go to church every Sunday morning and afterwards we get together for brunch and to reminisce about the past. [It's gone again, and he's back to frowning.] How do you think things are going? I don't seek them out and they don't seek me out. Despite the political tension between factions, their borders are doing as much work holding this place together as they are keeping it apart.

[Good fences make good neighbours.

He gets what Gabriel's question is really about, however. His friction with the Winchesters and their pet is only incidental to his conflict with Lucifer. Being rejected by his tailor-made suit is a minor spat compared to his once unwavering commitment to executing a fellow archangel.]

If you're asking about the Apocalypse—ten years past by my time, and still a few years too late by yours. I have no intention of pursuing it.

[It had been so important to him, once. His ultimate destiny. Now it feels so distant that it may as well have been another lifetime.]