Balthazar huddles into the offered wing-hug like he needs the comfort. That doesn't bode well, and neither does the blank look he gives Gadreel in response to the question about water. In the heat of the conversation about current events, he's temporarily forgotten the game they were playing--or pretending to play--and his wings fidget and settle against the other angels slowly before it clicks.

"...oh. Oh! Yes. Yes, that's...correct, actually. I had a more specific type in mind if you want to go on."

If he were less shaken, he'd look sheepish, but he's quick to switch gears now, because it's important. "We need to get out. They're evacuating. They're leaving this dimension, all of the angels in good standing." He takes a shaky breath. "Raphael's already taken the first two waves away. There's only a few left, and Michael will be collecting the rest in a few hours. Hannah doesn't want to go, but I don't think she'll disobey orders."

He actually reaches for Gadreel's arm, holding onto his wrist. It shouldn't matter at this point. The guards won't bother to punish them for acting up or getting too close. "They're just going to leave us all locked up forever. We have to get out or we'll be trapped."

Granted, their options for places to go once they escape are limited, but the planet has to be a better option than prison.

...right?