Today, I made an appearance downtown. I'm an expert witness, because I say I am.

[howangryarethey]

On Monday morning, a limo pulls up in front of the Conrad and Adam Monroe, plus a few ranking Organization personnel and all their individual security details, arrive at the Conrad Hotel for a meeting. They head straight to the meeting room without lingering too long outside or in the lobby, and while Adam is choking down a deep-rooted urge to kill

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[wegotwork]

Sam is working at the Luna and trying to decidedly not think about any and all potential city invasions from certain tricksters.

It's working pretty well.

He only manages to demolish a good number of lemons in the process.

[painhumbles]

That's too bad, Sammy. The Trickster has been thinking about you.

NOT LIKE THAT. Jesus.

You may not have noticed the familiar guy entering the bar, because it's pretty crowded and, hey, people have the same face all the time, and, you know, those lemons won't chop themselves. Whatever.

It is really hard not to notice though when they sidle onto the barstools nearest you and say, completely cheerfully, "Sam. Did Dean send my regards?"

Ten to one, Sam doesn't know who he is either and the Winchesters just spent the whole of the last few days bashing their heads together. The Trickster can deal with this.

[wegotwork]

Sam's hand might clutch the knife just a little tighter, even though he's well aware of the fact that he can't actually use it as a weapon - because apart from the blood-tipped stake, these things are supposed to sort of be immortal.

"You," he grits out through clenched teeth. His jaw looks tense enough to snap, but he doesn't make any sudden movements.

Yet.

[painhumbles]

The Trickster is probably way too gleeful for someone getting stared down like that. Then again, he's five foot, seven inches worth of massively powerful demigod. Winchesters have never and will never frighten him.

"Me," he says, leaning forwards a bit. "So you do remember, hm? What? Did Dean hit his head on the way in? I always said that kid's been dropped on his skull one too many times."

[wegotwork]

"Dean's from 2005," Sam explains, even though he really doesn't enjoy having to do so. There might be a part of him that takes a little pleasure in sharing that piece of information, but you wouldn't know it from the expression on his face.

"He's never met you. And as far as I was concerned, he wasn't ever going to."

[painhumbles]

There's something hilarious about that. See the Trickster. See the Trickster laaaugh.

"So Dean missed the whole Great Winchester Adventure? All the pain, the suffering... The damnation, the... Stalked By An Angel Power Hour?" He cackles again. "Oh, Sammy. I'm good, but the amount of fucking with people this place pulls off? I can't touch that."

He spreads his hands, still snickering. Oh, he's a little perturbed, especially since he's on the ass-end of this particular 'fucking with' too, but he'll take the schadenfreude over the irritation.

[wegotwork]

"The having to put up with your crap, you mean?" Sam counters. His hand still hasn't let go of that knife, though that's more to keep him from lashing out and decking this creep across the face than anything else.

"I don't know. Way I see it, he probably got the better end of the deal as far as that's concerned."

[painhumbles]

"Like I was even that big of a blip on your Suckdar, kid," the Trickster rolls his eyes. "But I wasn't talking about Dean. This joke's on you too. Guess you just have one of those faces that brings all the higher powers to the yard." He shrugs and leans back a bit. "Dean doesn't know a damn thing and you know everything. And let me guess... That didn't put the kibosh in your freakish co-dependent streak one bit, did it? Hm?"

He's pretty sure there is nothing that's going to put an end to that. It does not stop him from imparting the lesson about why it's all of the stupid every time he gets the opportunity.

[wegotwork]

Sam decides that the lemons should get the brunt of his anger and not the Trickster's jaw.

It doesn't mean he's not biting the inside of his cheek as he chops up another one into almost unusable slices.

[painhumbles]

That's probably for the best, Sam. It's very hard to tend bar with a broken arm.

This does not mean the Trickster is going away, because when a Winchester stops snarking at you, then you know you've hit them where it hurts. And he's still pissed about the holy fire thing. It doesn't matter that they're both clearly not aware of that happening. He can still be pissed at past-them.

"Don't worry, Sam," he says, melodramatically, like the reason for the silence is because Sam is contemplating exactly this, "I'm not gonna kill Dean a thousand times to prove a point. That ship sailed and I hate repeating myself."