"I believe we all know why we're here today," says Naomi, scanning the gathered courtroom for confirmation. The room is sombre, nowhere more so than the seat of the accused, but there's the delicate hum of gossip on a lower wavelength. Zachariah, of the prosecution, manages to look the smug end of sober, if such an look could exist.
"Castiel, you stand accused of several serious breaches of protocol. The punishment for these transgressions is severe, but given your... varied service history, it was felt you should be given a chance to explain yourself." She smiles, but it's a cold thing. "I am sure you will give a full and detailed report of your actions."
He knows it shouldn't, but the weight of the varied eyes on him is starting to make him nervous. They're just curious, he knows; it's not the first time anyone has done what he has, but it's been a long time, and angels do love to gossip. In all honesty, once he was aware of himself again, Castiel was more than a little surprised at how seriously everyone was behaving about it - going as far as to take vessel facsimiles, the room, and he was pretty sure he'd even seen Zachariah wearing one of those courtroom wigs earlier - and while it was... frowned upon, all anyone else had ever really gotten was a slap on the wrist.
Aware that Naomi was now looking at him expectantly, he cleared his throat. "Where do you want me to start?"
"I think the beginning would be best, don't you?"