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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Visibly startled, Andrew draws back.

"No, I -- I'm not saying it's necessarily a bad thing."

Sam doesn't flinch.

"Then what are you saying?"

"Just, it might not be easy for him. That's all."

His tone's conciliatory ... and a little alarmed.

"This is something I'm doing," Sam informs him.

"Not Dean."

"Course it is," he says. "Just, I mean --"

Beat.

"I mean, he knows you're doing it, right?"

Sam eyes him.

"Does it make a difference?"

It's an answer, even if he doesn't want to admit it. He lets a long beat pass, then adds,

"He knows I can do it, yeah. He's not really happy about it, but he's seen me do it."

Andrew nods slowly.

The non-answer is entirely answer enough.

Sam eyes him some more.

"Anyway," he says. "Now you know."

"Yeah." Faintly apologetic. "And it sounds pretty cool."

"I guess."

The tension's fading by slow degrees.

"Anyway. There was something I, uh, wanted to ask you about, though."

"Sure," Andrew says readily, "go ahead."

He reaches for his drink and takes a sip.

"So I heard you had some help rescuing Baby."

He drums his fingers once on the tabletop without being aware of it.

"From an, um, unexpected source."

"Uh --"

Beat.

"You mean Ava? Yeah."

"Yeah," he agrees.

A beat.

"Gotta say, I was a little surprised to hear it."

Pause.

Uncertainly: "Like ... good surprised, or ...?"

Sam blinks.

"Just surprised surprised. I mean, yeah, it was good to hear she was helping, I just ... didn't know you two were, uh, still close."

"It's not ..."

His gaze falls to the table; he traces a line through the condensation from his glass with one fingertip, frowning in thought.

"I don't really know what we are," he says finally. "'Close' isn't the word."

"I guess it'd be hard to know with her, yeah."

Something in his tone is very wry.

"But I'm glad to hear she helped. I mean, that she wanted to, and that she did, you know?"