Night 57: M-A Block Hallway
[from here]He slipped silently down the hallway, flashlight (turned off) in hand, as he couldn't fit it into a pocket with both the bulky radio as well as the gun. A hassle, but bearable. Having a portable source of light handy with him while wandering dark corridors was actually rather helpful, even if normally, Vino wouldn't have bothered with it
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The men's hall hardly looked a bit different from the women's. If Claire hadn't known better she would say she hadn't moved at all. But Dean was there, waiting for her and looking exactly as detailed and human as he had in the daylight. She strode forward with caution, flicking her light into the corners around him. She had no control over what she might see at night, that much she knew for certain.
"Hi," she said quietly, expression sagging after she flicked him a smile. The axe head set gingerly on the linoleum and the handle rested against her leg as she fiddled with the tool bag, slipping it off her shoulder and turning over the flap lid. Inside was a veritable sweet shop. Claire had grabbed as much as would fit into the bag, and a lot did. She had only made use of a few bars since collecting then, so Dean had his pick of the crop. Though she secretly hoped he would leave the trail mix alone. The nuts and raisins were a great deal more palatable to her now than most of the chocolate confections were.
"Um. Here. Take whatever you like. As much as you want." She held the bag out for him, smiling once more with the generosity of the act. That was one part of her that hadn't changed. Opportunities to make other people happy hadn't presented themselves in ages, that was all. "Sweets don't sit so well with me anymore. Three years is too long."
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Dean liked her for that. It was refreshing and kinda downright surprising to see a civilian showing any kind of self-preservation. He watched as she checked the corners for anything around them that could be going bump in the night. Chick after his heart. Cute Aussie accent - he thought it was Aussie. Maybe a bit weird and she had that borderline scary, intense look sometimes, but he was gonna just settle on how grateful he was that she was showing some serious competence here.
He returned the smile, even as he glanced over to watch where she put that axe. The way she rested it against her leg like that made it seem like she knew her way around the thing, which only raised all sorts of interesting questions. He wasn’t saying hunters were the most ninja people out there but he couldn’t picture her moseying up to, say, a police station and being able to get any info without breaking her cover. Dean peered into the tool bag after another glance at the axe.
Holy shit this chick was loaded.
It was like some crack house stash, only except for the part where you traded the crack for candy. Jesus Christ. Dean couldn’t even remember the last time he just parked himself on a bench and worked his way through a bag of Skittles. Felt like a long time. Dean flashed a grin up at Claire, who was hitting him with one of those pretty smiles she totally should try out more, and made a low whistle.
“That’s a hell of a stash, Claire. Thanks,” he said. He helped himself to a few chocolate bars and whatever he felt like was gonna give him the most cavities. “Three years?"
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Seeing Charlie-Chace today had eliminated any chance of her being charmed by it, but she was still giggling when he thanked her. That had more to do with his boyish enthusiasm.
"No worries." She gave a friendly shrug and set to resetting the clasps on the bag. The next subject was a sombre one, though. Confusing too, in light of the visit today. She fumbled the answer. "Yeah. Um. There was, uh. Plane crash. Awful. Really awful." Teeth nearly locked together with the admission. Awful was an understatement. "Been stuck on an island ever since, so I can't stand anything much sweeter than a mango these days. Salt's really strange now, too."
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