milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Susannah is once again working in the bar, although she has less of a pile of documents with her tonight. All she has is a notebook, in which she is alternately taking notes, scratching out notes, and doodling.

She is not a bad teacher, but some things are hard to approach.

She also has a large bottle of water, because proper hydration is important.

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Dean's posture shifts, and he drops his arms out of their defensive cross.

"We'll do that."

Dean cracks a smile.

"Nothing against you, Susannah. There's just shit here and at home that's kinda--fucked up. Guess you know how that goes, too."

He's never been good at diplomacy, but he can say what's on his mind clear enough. Sometimes it even works.

She nods. "Like I said," she says. "It was a pragmatic decision."

Her armor is going up; twenty years of suburbia melting away before their eyes. The woman underneath is like a statue carved out of stone. "We set out on our journey, and along the way we found work. Important work. We did the job. We paid the price. And after that... only the destination was left, and it wasn't worth it anymore. Not to me, not the way things were."

"We didn't get many choices on that road. When I had a chance to get out, I took it."

Edited 2008-10-12 04:41 (UTC)

Sam nods, and doesn't look at Dean as he asks,

"So what do you do these days? I mean, aside from hanging out at bars between worlds."

"You've mentioned the monsters you've met, but I don't know if you've ever met... organized resistance, on a massive scale. We did. They have their pawns and fronts in multiple worlds; we established our own. A company."

Staccato and short; like a report.

"There are people, places and things that are important. They want to control or destroy them; we want to stop them. You mentioned consecrated ground. It's a little like that."

"We left the company to its own devices, to do the work we 'd set them, but when I came back, they had a place for me." At the top. "Some of what we do is very simple and mostly legal, and some of it--isn't."

"Just lately? I spent two weeks in an pretty ugly future. Now we're trying to figure out if we can stop it from happening."

"How's that working for you?"

Dean is trying really hard to keep the sudden sting of desperation out of his voice.

The hope gets squashed even faster.

"Could be better," she says, in measured tones. "We have a message we're trying to translate. If I'd known what to look for when I was there--"

She shrugs. Ka. "The people who sent it, who brought me there accidentally, were all killed before I could find much out."

"Sorry to hear that."

Sam trades a quick look with Dean.

"Is it in another language, or something?"

She nods. "A dead language from another world. I can understand it, sometimes, and we've got a lot of experts on payroll, too. I think we're getting there."

She hopes.

There's the murmur of Fur Elise from the pocket of her chair, and she apologizes as she gets out her cell. "All right. All right. I'll be home shortly."

"Small family emergency. I'll talk to you boys later, all right? Have a good night." For a moment she hesitates, as if about to add something else, but in the end she doesn't.

Edited 2008-11-13 04:32 (UTC)

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