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The fights, the barricades, the triage and all other manner of preparation - it was exhausting, but Rose still felt full of light. She carried with her the slow dance in the middle of the storm, and now, she held onto the arm of a man she had grown quite fond of, tired but feeling balanced again. Between the flow of Marisol and the sturdy reliability of Cas, the songstress felt safe, secure, a sense of belonging that she had only experienced when standing on the stage. They were not her safety net, no, they were much more -- they'd become her reason. If she were a warrior charging into battle, it was their banners she would bear.

"I'm sure we'll find -- ah!" Rose's brows lofted as she saw Marisol in the middle of the hallway, her eyes warming along with her smile. "And here, in the midst of our plight of finding somewhere to lay our weary heads, a beacon of light." She looked up at Cas, squeezing his arm affectionately before releasing him and approaching Marisol, hands outstretched to her. "Have you found lodgings? It would do me well to know you're taken care of, at least for the night."

Marisol took Rose's hands in her own, grateful, and pulled herself up. While she dropped one hand, the other she continued to hold, curving her hand so that she could more easily interweave their fingers. There was a special smile directed at the woman before she turned to face Cas, where her smile twitched into a smirk.

"A king size bed on the right and two queens on the left," she explained, agreeing with the man's assessment. "It took me awhile to find a room for you, Cas, in case you wanted some company," she teased. The glitter of mischief in her eyes was apparent and she couldn't help the chuckle that escaped what could have been a dead panned facade.

"What do you think Rose? Shall we have a girls only night or...?" she let the question trail off. In truth, she found both options interesting and either way there would be more than enough room for all three of them on matter which room they chose. She didn't want to impose, though, which is why she had waited for them both. While apart of her would have liked to explore the promise they had made, she had no want to exclude Cas. To her, it seemed he was as bonded to them as they were to each other.

Cas had somehow landed himself in a situation that he very much appreciated, and he wasn't entirely sure how. Rose and Marisol weren't the same as the ones he usually met, who melted under his smirk and quiet confidence. They weren't the randoms he'd meet one night and never see again. Which made this situation, mostly unengineered on his part, surprising.

He wasn't about to complain, though.

His gaze shifted to Rose. A brief moment of thought. This was where he wanted to play his cards right, but then again, everything before had come so naturally. That was probably a good sign.

"I'm a strong proponent of staying warm on cold nights," he said while a grin crept across his face. "You wouldn't want to push the queens together anyway. Sleeping on the crack in the middle would destroy your back."

And so the decision was made. Just like that, Rose had gone from learning how to open herself to one, to two; she'd be lying if part of her wasn't balking at the notion, but she was aware she had straight-laced sensibilities more often than not. She was also aware that her opinion could change, and she could learn - her time at the Prytaneum was proof enough of that.

Following Marisol in, she felt ridiculously giddy, like her first time singing with a conscience. Sure, she'd sung and danced as a child who merely did what they loved, but there came a point in life where one becomes aware, be it of short-comings or the possibilities outside of joy, and standing there in the haphazard remains of someone else's life with two very different people that she had begun to think of as her own had reinstated that feeling. It wasn't unwelcome, but she was aware of the shift -- and that maybe, there wasn't much of a change at all, if their past interactions were any indication.

"I don't suppose we'd be lucky enough to have running water." Rose glanced into the bathroom, noting the absence of towels but even that would not dissuade her from the idea of a hot shower, were it possible. "I'm sure we can make do with what's been dealt to us." Be that their position or their clothes, she didn't specify, instead peeling off her rather torn up jacket. The warm sweater she wore beneath was snagged in places, and when that came off, her thermal was fairly untouched. If there was any question to being touched by a God, she supposed the lack of torn up skin was a good answer.

"The water should be fine and it should be easy enough to find some towels or other clothes, too," she thought aloud as the closet's contents proved to be less than useful. "The dresser contents were more everyday wear," she advised, "I believe there were a few t-shirts and buttons up that might fit you." The last part was directed at Cas.

Marisol peeled off her own coat. It was relatively intact save for a few slices from those damn feathers. The sweater beneath it was not the one she'd worn earlier--it'd been more lightweight and ruby red in color. This one was a tan knit with a cowl and irregular hemline. The jeans and boots were the same which begged the question of how she'd acquired the new top. Or maybe not, as after she unlaced her boots and slipped them off, she pulled two suitcases out from behind a chair.

"These were the best I could find for you, Rose," she told the woman as she set a suitcase down on the bedspread. "I'm afraid your vintage look is much harder to scavenger for." And the ballerina honestly did look a bit put off by that.

"As for Cas, I took a more liberal approach." Indeed, the suitcase she handed him would reveal pretty much anything and everything of various sizes thrown into it. She thought most of it would fit him but whether he would like any of it, that was a bit harder to determine.

She climbed up on the bed, sitting cross-legged, as she waited to see if they'd find anything of like or use. This wasn't like she could go out and actually shoplift things of their desire. She'd had to make due with what was available and honestly it was a pretty hit or miss selection. Unless they were into lingerie, there seemed to a hell of a lot of that around. Which is why she'd nicked some in the off-chance it was.

"You are a..." He took the suitcase, floundering for words. "Freaking national treasure," he finished, half muttered with a grin as he unzipped the suitcase. If nothing else, it would be nice to get a change of clothes for everything he'd wear under the outer coat and sweater.

A short time spent rifling through the clothes unearthed a fresh pair of boxers, a tank, a long sleeved cotton shirt, and ski pants. Those would do. He folded the shirt and pants methodically and set them on top of the coat and sweater on the table.

Once Rose had chosen a shirt to her liking, he zipped the suitcase back up and stowed it beside the bedside table, only barely concealing the fact that he was watching her change.

"I want to say... join, but. Far be it for me to tell us all what to do," he said, a little starry-eyed.

"Logically, you should," he said with an amused quirk of his brow. "Look the gift horse in the mouth, I mean. You don't want to get stuck with an old-a** horse. Those things are expensive."

But entirely irrelevant.

This time, he almost did leap over the bed, skirting around it in two steps to do a fly-by grab of Marisol's hand and lead her into the bathroom, because ******** elegance and eloquence and whatever semblance of propriety you were supposed to put up.

There was a mostly-naked woman in that bathroom.