Rise and shine.
Who: Eliot Spencer and Dean Winchester.
When: Hangover o'clock in the morning following Eliot getting his drunk on with Sam.
Where: The garage.
What: If there's a guy with a tail breaking into cars, Eliot's damn sure gonna keep an eye on his. Also, maybe get a feel for the anti-social dude living in his Impala...
The sound of a man's footsteps on stairs -- carpeted stairs, no less -- should not cause said man as much pain as Eliot's were this morning. He descended the hotel's staircase from his room on the third floor with a headache that was slowly increasing to Biblical proportions. If he wasn't so concerned about explosions in the garage and car break ins and tails Seriously? Tails? he would have still been in bed. Or at the least, he'd have stopped off in the bar for a little hair of the dog.
Of course, this particular dog was still biting.
His car wasn't the only one he was interested in, though. The day before, he'd made a few inquiries over the hotel communication system and run across a guy who was, apparently, living in the garage. That was curious enough for him to want to check into it deeper, but truth be told, he kind of wanted to see this Impala, too. He knew a nice car when he saw one and if this one was as nice as Dean was boasting, it was a cherry ride.
He'd abandoned the suit in favor of his street clothes, but the FBI field badge was still in his pocket. Come hell or high water, he was keeping his damn cover. At least until the team found him or all hope was abandoned. He was betting on the former, still. His people were the best. Now, if he could just keep his head from rattling apart before they sprung him.
He finally made his way down to the garage and, after satisfying his need to see his car in one piece and untouched, he started looking through the rest of the garage for a Chevy Impala. He found it, tucked back in a corner, with a guy sprawled out in the back seat. Eliot quirked an eyebrow, raised a hand, and thumped it soundly on the roof.
"Anybody home?"
When: Hangover o'clock in the morning following Eliot getting his drunk on with Sam.
Where: The garage.
What: If there's a guy with a tail breaking into cars, Eliot's damn sure gonna keep an eye on his. Also, maybe get a feel for the anti-social dude living in his Impala...
The sound of a man's footsteps on stairs -- carpeted stairs, no less -- should not cause said man as much pain as Eliot's were this morning. He descended the hotel's staircase from his room on the third floor with a headache that was slowly increasing to Biblical proportions. If he wasn't so concerned about explosions in the garage and car break ins and tails Seriously? Tails? he would have still been in bed. Or at the least, he'd have stopped off in the bar for a little hair of the dog.
Of course, this particular dog was still biting.
His car wasn't the only one he was interested in, though. The day before, he'd made a few inquiries over the hotel communication system and run across a guy who was, apparently, living in the garage. That was curious enough for him to want to check into it deeper, but truth be told, he kind of wanted to see this Impala, too. He knew a nice car when he saw one and if this one was as nice as Dean was boasting, it was a cherry ride.
He'd abandoned the suit in favor of his street clothes, but the FBI field badge was still in his pocket. Come hell or high water, he was keeping his damn cover. At least until the team found him or all hope was abandoned. He was betting on the former, still. His people were the best. Now, if he could just keep his head from rattling apart before they sprung him.
He finally made his way down to the garage and, after satisfying his need to see his car in one piece and untouched, he started looking through the rest of the garage for a Chevy Impala. He found it, tucked back in a corner, with a guy sprawled out in the back seat. Eliot quirked an eyebrow, raised a hand, and thumped it soundly on the roof.
"Anybody home?"