John lets loose a low whistle that comes out in a plume of smoke. It's even curdling his stomach at the moment, mixed as it is with the overpowering smell of the paint still covering one of his hands, the petrol and new car smell of the vehicle. All he's had tonight is a bottle and a half of hard liquor and over half a pack of cigarettes, and now he's driving with a pounding headache from the demon's screaming souls and an angel whose power he can still feel tingling residually at the base of his spine.

After a moment thinking about it, he flicks the almost-spent cigarette butt out the window crack, and then rolls it down the rest of the way. It's not bitingly cold outside yet and they're nowhere near a highway, so at least the car will get a fair chance to air out before long.

Which he's only doing because Cas didn't voice a complaint about his smoking. If he had, John probably would have kept going just to spite him. Because he's an adult.

"Gets under your skin-suit, does it?" He grins, glancing over, tapping his fingers against the wheel as they pull up to a stop light. "You've been wondering all night, how I know half the things I know." He sucks on his bottom lip for a second, deciding to throw Castiel a bone since he keeps dodging the poor sod's questions even though his own are receiving fairly straightforward answers. "You're not the first one I've met, is all."