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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"No."

Elle sounds annoyed about this, too.

"But she's mad that I know."

"... she was the one who told you, but she's mad that you know. Right."

He can practically feel the headache forming.

"So it's, like, what, some sort of test?"

Guess how she feels, Sam.

Elle's frustration rushes over what uncertainty she has left, and she finally snaps, "No, it's because she knew I was a freak."

And unlike some people, she can't hide it.

Without even an instant's hesitation--

"You're not a freak, Elle, okay?"

Elle rolls her eyes, though it's a much more difficult move than it looks.

"I don't care what you call it."

Edited 2010-05-05 05:40 (UTC)

He sighs.

Audibly.

"Please."

I don't have anyone else to talk to. The tone's not too different, but while she'd managed to choke those words out to Bennet, she's not doing it now.

"I'm - trying."

Sam blinks, looking startled -- but his tone's a lot quieter when he says,

"Sorry. I didn't mean..."

A beat, and a careful breath.

"It's okay."

He smiles, a little; it's somehow rueful.

"The whole thing's kind of complicated, isn't it?"

She doesn't smile back.

And this time, she doesn't answer. Elle truthfully has no idea if this whole thing is complicated, or what that would mean.

So she just meets his eyes again, and waits.

Edited 2010-05-06 03:23 (UTC)

He's not sure what to say, but at the same time, he can't ever remember her acting like this before, so... maybe it won't hurt to at least try...

"What do--"

He breaks off, then tries again.

"-- is there something I can do? Maybe?"

Elle looks down again.

"You could tell me what to do."

It's grumbled, and it doesn't sound like she expects that to actually happen.

Edited 2010-05-06 04:25 (UTC)

It takes him several seconds.

Then a few more.

"... if you really want me to, I will."

Low and steady.

"Yeah."

Her eyes stay on the table, the answer not sounding as sincere as it could. But it's still not for a lack of trying.

Edited 2010-05-09 03:12 (UTC)

Sam draws a deep breath, then lets it out slowly.

"Watch your back. Don't let her get the jump on you. But..."

Another breath.

"... don't tell anyone else what she can do. I think-- I think that'll make it worse, if we do."

Her eyes come up, but only to look to the side.

"Why?"

Beat. "Would it be worse?"

"Because someone who feels backed into a corner, without options, is more likely to strike out."

There's something very dark in his eyes.

"And I know that's the case with Ava."

Now, she does look to him.

"Why?"

She doesn't clarify this time, probably because she wouldn't know how.

"Because she wasn't always two people," Sam tells her, quietly.

I used to be a real girl.

Elle abruptly folds her arms, and shoves herself up against the back of the booth.

"Good for her."

That might be a little bitter again. Or a lot.

"What happened to her wasn't her fault," he says, very steadily. Sam hasn't missed Elle's reaction.

"But what she did about it was her choice."

Elle scoffs.

(did you have a -)

"I don't care about that."

"Okay," he says, after a moment.

"What do you care about? With this whole thing?"

"I don't -"

Well. That's a lie. And she is not going to lie over this.

But she still doesn't exactly tell the truth when she mutters, "Why can't she just - get over it -"

Sam blinks.

"Get over it?"

It was the wrong word.

But she only answers, "Used to it."