"Dunno. Think they've got people to handle that." John leaned in the doorway, wishing he were feeling a bit more alert and better able to judge the archangel's state of mind. It had only been a fortnight or so since Michael's Fall, and if his own experiences with bad breakups and guilt were any indication, there was probably a lot more to this late-night cleaning frenzy than boredom or a desire to be useful.

John still wasn't sure why he should care, frankly; his feelings about the seemingly unstable archangel were as ambiguous as ever. But hell...he'd been awake something like twenty-seven hours now; a few more minutes wouldn't hurt anything. "You, uh...you been getting along all right?" he asked cautiously, not wanting to set Raphael off of one of his tirades by saying the wrong thing. He didn't have the energy to deal with a tantrum right now. (A flak jacket, he thought wryly, would also have been comforting.)