milliways_bar | (no subject)

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As soon as the shower had started running in the motel's bathroom, Sam had seized his chance. He yelled something indistinct about lunch, grabbed his laptop and messenger bag, and headed straight for Milliways without waiting for Dean to answer.

Now he's sitting at a booth, the laptop open in front of him, staring at something on the screen.

(From time to time he stares at a note, instead.)

Either way, it doesn't look like he's making much progress.

[ooc: open until it scrolls, with a break at 9 MT for tonight's episode of Supernatural.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Hi."

It's only a little flat.

There's still another moment before she looks down at the table and asks, "What're you doing?"

"Working on stuff," he says, a little dryly. "You're not interrupting, though."

It doesn't make her sit. She just folds her arms, and leans into the side of the booth.

"I -"

It's barely out before she seems to change her mind on it. There's a pause, and instead she goes with, "What're you working on?"

Even feigned, the interest is a little dim.

"A Latin translation."

Sam's looking at her a little more carefully now.

"What for?"

Still not what she wants to say, and she's not too good at hiding it.

"Mostly because it'd be good to have some idea of what the words mean before I do anything with them."

Not that it looks like this spell's going to be any good for his purposes anyway, but that's beside the point.

He nods to the seat beside her.

"Want to sit down?"

It's another moment, but she does finally slip into the booth across from him. There's no 'thank you' or particularly glad look to go with it.

And she does try very hard to think of something to ask about Sam's explanation, but somehow what she ends up actually saying is -

"Ava won't tell me what to do."

(It might sound a little like Elle's telling on her.)

"Do?"

Sam looks as surprised as he sounds.

"About what?"

Her eyes stay on the table.

"I didn't know - no one else knew."

There's a long pause before she thinks of anything else to say.

"But now I do."

"... about Ava. You didn't..."

He breaks off there.

"Oh. Gotcha."

A long, long beat.

"And you're wondering if you should... tell people about her?"

She looks up, her frustration obvious from her voice. "No."

Elle really doesn't care if anyone else knows. And maybe more importantly, she doesn't get why anyone thinks she would.

"But if - they say it or something -"

I didn't start it. Bela had thought they could do something fun.

"- it's like she's different for them."

The frustration has cooled, but only to something more like bitter.

"... oh," he says again, softly, this time letting it out on a quiet breath like a sigh.

"Like she's two different people." A beat. "One who's witty and stubborn and laughing and fun and -- all sorts of things --"

Another beat.

"-- and the other. The one who attacked you."

And me. And the rest of them.

Elle's shoulder stiffen. Her eyes don't come up.

"Yeah. Whatever," she mutters.

"Yeah, whatever," he echoes.

Sam looks steadily at her.

"Still sucks. And in this case, I've got reason to know."

She doesn't answer.

But Elle does finally look up from the table, and meets his eyes again.

He nods, just a little.

"I've seen both sides of her too."

A beat.

"I don't know if anyone else here has, though."

She looks away again.

Dully, "I don't know what I'm supposed to say."

"To who?"

Quietly.

"I don't care."

It's frustrated again, though not really directed at him. If she has to get a question more than once, Elle can sometimes see where the issue may really be.

"If they say it. I don't know how to pretend for her."

She doesn't know how to pretend this much at all. It's kind of the problem.

"If it helps, it's not exactly pretending. I don't think." He only sounds a little doubtful.

Beat.

"Do you want to pretend for her?"

It might be fortunate that Elle doesn't even know what he means by not exactly pretending.

But her frustration is more directed at him when she answers, "Like that matters."

"Sure it matters," he counters. "Why wouldn't it?"

"Because I'd do what she does."

It's very quick, too quick to have been thought out, the result of her mind being frozen on why anyone can't just tell her what to do, and immediately after she's staring at the table, maybe hoping that it didn't make sense, anyway.

Elle's staring at the table; Sam's staring at her.

"... Elle?"

She exhales. It's not quite a sigh.

"I want," Elle says slowly, "to know what to do."