Eve would have many a thing to say should Castiel ever consider her one of his underlings. Sure, she could still force her suppression upon his Grace, force him to be as powerless as any normal Heavenly being could be. But that would simply give the writhing mess within him more of an advantage. She couldn't have that, now could she?

There was always the thought of seeking out control of her own beings, her own children, the souls of her beloved. But whether such a thing would even work, let alone be of any help to anything or anyone, was beyond even her knowledge. Not that it stops her from reaching out, stroking against the cacophony of beings inside the mislead Angel, regardless of where he might be in the Port. Not a single creature of her making was here. Not anywhere. Or there hadn't been, until Castiel returned, teeming with undead.

So maybe she did miss them. Missed having that connection; the one she'd had, back in their home world, since nearly the Beginning of it All. Now, she was just as telepathically empty as a Regular Josephine. And she hated it. Maybe that's why she was drawn to the Angel, regardless of what she thought of her ... enchanting nephew.

"So dissimilar to my own. And yet ..." Comforting. Just to feel them writhe and feed off the Darkness around them. It was unnatural, sure. But that didn't mean it wasn't a taste of something so like home. Even if she didn't particularly like what she'd called 'home'. It was still something.