Stop. Hobo-time.
Who: Sam Winchester and Owen Harper, later Irene Addler and maybe T'Pol
When: Sometime Tuesday evening.
Where: On da streetz. On the streets, in a back alley somewhere.
What: Sam and his warden hobo it up following an attack.
Warnings: Probably language and stink.
Sam had stayed in a wide spectrum of different motels in his time as a hunter, but this took the cake. Nothing quite said fugitive like trying to tuck his unnecessarily long legs behind a dumpster, his coat collar pulled up about his neck and hair a tousled mess, complete with a piece of gum attached to one chunk of it. Beyond a few bruises, though, the hunter was in one piece despite being hounded by a patrol earlier. Luckily, the Winchester had extensive hand-to-hand training and it'd been easier than taking down a nest of vampires in all honesty. What wasn't so easy was trying to sit next to his warden, who he disliked greatly. He already didn't see eye-to-eye with him on anything and they'd gotten off to a rough start following the appearance of the hellhounds aboard the Barge.
"Dude, you smell like you got three-day-old Mexican dropped on you," the Sasquatch grumbled with irritation as he offered a scrunch of his nose and mostly unpleasant look. "Scoot over."
They'd had the brief opportunity to sit and rest following their debacle, but still the hunter wanted little to do with Owen.
When: Sometime Tuesday evening.
Where: On da streetz. On the streets, in a back alley somewhere.
What: Sam and his warden hobo it up following an attack.
Warnings: Probably language and stink.
Sam had stayed in a wide spectrum of different motels in his time as a hunter, but this took the cake. Nothing quite said fugitive like trying to tuck his unnecessarily long legs behind a dumpster, his coat collar pulled up about his neck and hair a tousled mess, complete with a piece of gum attached to one chunk of it. Beyond a few bruises, though, the hunter was in one piece despite being hounded by a patrol earlier. Luckily, the Winchester had extensive hand-to-hand training and it'd been easier than taking down a nest of vampires in all honesty. What wasn't so easy was trying to sit next to his warden, who he disliked greatly. He already didn't see eye-to-eye with him on anything and they'd gotten off to a rough start following the appearance of the hellhounds aboard the Barge.
"Dude, you smell like you got three-day-old Mexican dropped on you," the Sasquatch grumbled with irritation as he offered a scrunch of his nose and mostly unpleasant look. "Scoot over."
They'd had the brief opportunity to sit and rest following their debacle, but still the hunter wanted little to do with Owen.