milliways_bar | (no subject)

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[OOM: We can't afford for me to do the right thing.]

It's been a long time since he'd last really 'powered up,' as Ruby teases him by calling it. Sam can feel the effects twisting through him. Everything seems brighter, sharper, clearer; he feels clearer, stronger, ready for anything.

He can't sit still, and he sure as hell can't go back to the motel room until it wears off a little - Dean'll notice something's wrong in a hot second, and Sam doesn't want to lie to him unless he has to.

He pushes through the door to Milliways instead. Maybe he can walk it off there, at least a little bit.

[OOC note: Sam is currently riding a paranormal high due to the effects of ingesting demon blood. If your character would be able to detect that sort of taint, feel free to have them do so! Just don't expect him necesssarily to admit it.]

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He spots her when he heads over to retrieve a beer -- no caffeine for him, not now.

"Coyote, hey."

"...Sam," she says, after getting a whiff of him. To her sensitive nose, even in the crowd of the bar, he smells like blood.

And not his own.

Nor was he killing something in a messy way.

That aura of energy is a little unsettling too!

"...how are you?"

"Not bad," he allows. "Just finished up a job."

"You?"

"Not a rock," Coyote says, probably staring at him in a somewhat disconcerting manner. "So all right."

"Not a rock," Sam repeats, carefully, eyeing her back.

"Uh, is that supposed to make sense?"

"You had to be there," she says. "Would I also have had to be there, to understand what you have been doing?"

Uh-oh.

"Maybe? Guess that depends on what you think I've been doing."

"I assume you have heard the phrase 'don't lie to a liar'. You might want to consider 'don't try to trick a trickster'. What have you been doing with all that blood, Sam?"

Making more deals? Gathering more favors? What is he up to?

She really needs to learn to keep her nose out of other people's business.

Sam looks incredibly sour at the word 'trickster,' and then freezes as she continues.

"What do you mean, all that blood?"

Coyote taps her nose.

And waits.

Fuck.

"Damn good nose you've got there."

Seriously. It's not like he spilled any of it, or anything.

"Maybe you should have brushed your teeth."

Not that it would get out the demon-y aftertaste! Mm-mm, sulphur.

He looks like he's bitten into a lemon.

"Okay, ew. Seriously, can we not go there?"

"Why not?" Coyote says, drawing back and scrunching her eyebrows. "You clearly did."

There goes tact, whistling by again.

Sam makes a strangled sound and glares at her.

"What? What?" He's going around drinking blood and she is on the defensive? Something is wrong with this picture.

He blows out an exasperated breath.

"Never mind."

A beat.

"Look, I don't suppose I can get you to keep that to yourself, can I?"

Coyote raises her eyebrows. Sam should really, really know better.

"Sam!" She sounds aghast. "Are you keeping secrets?"

"No, you are," he counters. "This one."

It's so funny that people think she has nothing better to do than blab their little secrets to someone else. Why would she even bother to? Who would care about...

Oh.

He doesn't want her to tell Dean.

"That is very masterful of you, Sam. But I don't owe you any more favors, remember?"

She bets he probably does.

"I know."

There's no way this is gonna end anywhere good, but he can't --

Dean can't --

"This time I'd owe you one, instead."

Coyote leans in toward Sam. "Tell me more."

Oh, that's a dangerous smile.

He shakes his head.

"Promise me, first."

"Sam, that isn't fair. What if you bought me a beer and then declared us even?"

It would be totally even, because it costs her nothing to keep his secret.

BUT THAT DOESN'T MATTER.

"Oh, I'm sure we can work something out."

His tone is dry as sand.

"Come on, Coyote."