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.]

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Given their location, she's got a point, even if he'd rather bite his own tongue off than admit it.

Sam stays where he is, keeping his hand behind his back and giving her a hard, sharp look, but he stops moving.

"You're a demon."

"Well, thank you for that, Captain Obvious."

She blinks again, and her eyes go back to their normal greeny-blue.

(She thinks he gets the point with all the fanfare.)

"That's right. I'm a demon. But it doesn't change anything."

"Doesn't it?"

He edges closer, reaching for his laptop.

"Stay there. Finish your fries, or whatever. Just leave me alone, okay?"

Even as he says it, he knows he's gonna go look into what she'd hinted about their mom and her friends. Just in case there's something he needs to know.

Curiosity's a powerful thing.

"No. It doesn't."

She rolls her eyes, but she sits up a little straighter.

This is serious, now.

"Don't be such a racist, Sam. Not all demons are the same. Not all of us want the same thing. I want to help you. And if you let me, there's something in it for you. Something I'm pretty sure you'll want to know."

Don't ask, he tells himself. Don't ask. Whatever it is, it's got to be a trick. Don't ask--

He meets her no-longer-black eyes without flinching.

"Yeah? What's that?"

If she was expecting that very reaction, she certainly makes no point of making it obvious.

Her expression is the same: serious, concerned, but very matter-of-fact.

"I can help you save your brother."

The shock that flashes over his face is visible, as is the flicker of stunned, desperate hope before his expression hardens and everything about him closes off.

"You're lying."

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you successfully hook your audience.

"Why don't you look into your mom's friends - just like I told you - and when you're ready, you can give me a call and we'll talk again?"

She reaches for a spare napkin, and with a pen that seemingly appears out of nowhere, she quickly jots down her number.

Sam eyes her for a second or two, then takes the napkin and shoves it in his pocket.

Without saying a word, he grabs the rest of his things. He gives her another long look, turns, and walks away.

She's lying.

She's a demon. She has to be lying.

Doesn't she?

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