OOC: Tracking.
NIGHTSHIFT 50.
- [M13] Waking up. Oh hi life. No powers? I want a bahama mama. FUZZY SLIPPERS, WUT. Coma victim? Designer glasses! You shouldn't have. Yoink.
- [M-A Block Hallway] Oh hi whitewashed walls. Lucifer, you're kind of a dick and I will be expositioning about this a lot. Dad, doing something? LOLRITE. Moving on.
- [West Wing, South Hall 1-A] Oh hi not-so-comatose people. Humans?
- [Main Hallway, 1-West] Bitches screaming always catches my attention. What the fuck, is everyone with a dick ingesting growth hormones up the wazoo? Oh, a mental hospital... like that bad episode of Supernatural? Go figure. Sure, I love portals! WAIT, WHAT DO YOU MEAN "GET READY TO SWIM" --
- [Lake] You're a bad person and you should feel bad. Oh hi hypothermia, I didn't know that was you at the door. ROWDY. A FISHERMAN'S SHACK. It smells like fish. Lanterns! I LOVE (HURRICANE) LAMP. Wait, what? Can you like... stop talking alien languages, it's confusing the archangel. Snow, you make Dean look like a genius. No, that wasn't a compliment.
END RESULT:
- what is going on.
- WHAT IS GOING ON.
- Saw Rita's witch fire magic shit: must investigate further.
- Hurricane lamp acquired! /Zelda tune
- Snow is dumb.
DAYSHIFT 51.
- [Cafeteria, Breakfast] Getting a brother's name? Not cool. This french toast will fear me. Oh hi, Donna. I like your snark. Let us snark together. Cake club? Sign me the hell up. Yes, my name is Glen Coco. Yes, I enjoy Mean Girls. Lindsay was such a charmer back then.
- [Sun Room, Second Shift] OH HI, MY FAVORITE WINCHESTER. Oh... you're... from the past. And still pissed about the poison tacos. Well, there goes my posthumous Oscar. Look, I'm stuck in the past so I will carry on a somewhat normal conversation. Also: time differences. What the fuck.
- [Cafeteria, Lunch] WELL SLAP ME RED AND CALL ME SALLY, IF IT ISN'T MY FAVORITE KAWAII-DESU BROTHER EVER. Look at your man, now back to me: I have now made you a fountain of information. Oh, you're stuck in the past too. Haha, you're not the Winchesters' friend anymore. Conspiracy talk about brothers; still convinced it wasn't Michael and/or Lucifer but refuse to believe it's God. Also, stop being so good at exploding, Castiel. You are going to be shitting cows for a week. Gross. Also, Snow is still dumb.
- [Dinner] Oh, Captain Coma isn't actually dead. Or in a coma. Fascinating. These glasses? No. Totally mine. See, my name's on them. Intium. Yeah, my parents were Star Trek nerds. I WANT THAT CAKE CARAMEL APPLE.
NIGHTSHIFT 51.
- [M11-M20 Hallway] Leaving the room... yeah, I got nothin'.
- [M-A Block Hallway] OH MAI GAWD IT'S MY BRO AGAIN. Yes, I know you want to get rid of me. No, I'm not going to leave. You? Meatshield. Good.
- [West Wing, South Hall 1-A] Castiel, I know you're an angel and all, but don't be a dick. No? You're going to be a dick anyway, aren't you. Radio interruption: LOL NOTE IN THE NURSE PLACE. Nurse's station seems like a reasonable guess, right? Lockpick time! Maybe if I wiggle it enough, it'll... work. Or not.
- [West Wing, North Hall 1-A] Questions about the vague curiousity in dying more than once. ME, DEAD? LOL NO OF COURSE NOT so uh how about that outside. There's no lake here. This is fascinating stuff so let's go outside anyway.
- [Recreational Field] Obviously getting over this wall is the only obstacle between us and freedom. Despite the lake not being near here. Despite the whole unconscious thing. HARK, A GHOST VOICE. Totally not listennnnning. Oh, these vines are... hair. HELP.
END RESULT:
- Castiel is a dick.
- MISSING: ONE FLASHLIGHT.
- All-in-one lockpick acquired! /Zelda tune
- Also acquired: wrist brusing! Boo, you dead whore.
- Hair ghosts can go suck a fuck.
- Don't expect a thank you.