It Runs Through Our Veins

“I do not get cold. The temperature doesn’t bother me as it will you. You’re still very… fleshy, and warm.”
“..Still?” She arched an eyebrow, the familiar smirk arising on her face.
“Are.” He corrected quickly, his tone harsh and firm as he glared her down. Meg only laughed.
“And you’re not ‘fleshy’?” She teased. Castiel shook his head.
“I am not.” He affirmed.
“Yeah? Prove it.”