[for agravain]: there's a bad moon on the rise

[precognitioning]

Things have been...better.

Far from good, far from even okay still (one night's visit, a thousand nightmares, all the promises, all the kindness) but it's...better. After New Year's, whatever that was, after the murder pulled them back together, things have been more solid with Dean. He feels better about it, anyway. Like maybe someday

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[asshatoforkney]

Keeping a close eye on the shadows, you say? Well, he might spot a rather large fellow in the shadows beneath the trees, leaning against the trunk of a fir tree.

Agravain's not in a very good mood today. He's bored. He's bored most of the time at the Mansion, of course, but usually it doesn't bother him. Most of the time he's content to lie around and do nothing. And drink. But today is one of the rare days where he feels restless, like he really needs to do something, but he can't because he went and got himself killed and now he's stuck in some bizarre version of the afterlife.

"Running," he comments, eyebrows raised slightly, when he sees Sam. "How interesting."

[precognitioning]

Sam catches someone out of the corner of his eye just before Agravain speaks up, and was prepared to just keep moving, but checks his step when someone actually...talks to him. Turns and looks at Agravain, raising his eyebrows right back. What is that tone? (And who is this guy?)

"...I guess. It's a routine," he says, a little awkwardly.

[asshatoforkney]

"Hm. It must be fascinating seeing exactly the same scenery every morning."

His tone probably does sound a bit strange. Usually there'd be a hint of amusement in it which would make it obvious he was just making random comments for fun, but that's not there today. Right now he sounds almost contemplative. Because he is contemplating something, though it's not the interests of running or lack of variation in the scenery.

[precognitioning]

"I don't do it for the scenery." Sam glances over his shoulder at the house, feeling a prickle of uneasiness between his shoulder blades. He doesn't really want to be having this conversation; strangers are a challenge at the best of times, which this really...isn't. "It's a good way to clear your head."

[asshatoforkney]

"Of course. Clearing your head is important."

There's something in his voice, though it's likely not obvious what it is or why it's there.

Agravain's usual method of clearing his head involves violence.

[precognitioning]

"...yeah." Sam eyes Agravain sideways, and takes a step back. "So, mind if I keep going?" Trying to politely excuse himself, because whoever this guy is, he is setting off Sam's instincts, and not even the supernatural detecting ones. Just the 'this is a bad situation' ones.

Those come in handy a lot.

[asshatoforkney]

"Of course not. I wouldn't want to interfere with you clearing your head," Agravain says, taking half a step back and waving Sam away with a small hand gesture.

As soon as Sam turns to leave he'll hear the sound of a sword being drawn, though.

[precognitioning]

Sam eyes Agravain a moment longer, and then says a brief, "Yeah, thanks," and turns to resume his run.

He doesn't know that sound in particular, but he is familiar with machetes, with knives, and just about every other kind of pointy object (swords are just a little archaic) and metal is metal and makes the same noise and wait, what? Sam turns around in a hurry, not reaching for his own weapon just yet, and blinks.

"Uh-"

[asshatoforkney]

Agravain takes a step forward, and he'll try to get the point of his sword under Sam's chin. Though whether or not he's successful will depend on what Sam does, of course.

"What?" he asks, innocently, with his eyebrows raised. "Is there some sort of problem?"

[precognitioning]

Considering how thoroughly surprised he is, and that he hasn't gotten very far, Agravain will probably be successful, and Sam's hands come up in classic defensive posture and um. What. Kind of wide eyes, here, but trying to play it cool. "I didn't think so," he says, carefully, trying to tip his head back away from the sword point because that is not very comfortable. "But maybe there is?" Knife. Close by, but reaching for it from here will be...obvious. Too risky.

Sword is too long to try hand-to-hand. Aw, shit. Talking it is.

[asshatoforkney]

"Hm. I'm not sure. I'll have to ponder this," Agravain says, and, typist willing, he'll put a little more pressure on the sword. Enough to break the skin but not do any real damage.

[precognitioning]

Agh. That. Hurts. Stings, really, but that is really not where he wants that, and Sam will be trying to take a small, easy step back. "Think you could ponder it without sharp metal by my throat?" He asks, a little too politely to be entirely sincere, because Sam is a Winchester and therefore constitutionally unable to not be stupid in situations like this.

[asshatoforkney]

Agravain finds that kind of amusing, actually, despite his mood. "Of course not," he says, taking a small step forward to make up for Sam moving backwards. "The sharp metal is an important part of my thinking process."

[precognitioning]

"Really? You might want to get that checked out," Sam says, entirely before he can think better of it. Aw, shit. Dean is rubbing off on him in the worst way, isn't he. That's...bad. Real bad. Quickly, he adds, "--maybe a conversation would work better?"

What the fuck is this guy seriously. He loosens his shoulders, drops his hands down, trying to put his own weaponry within quick reach without looking like he's doing so.

[asshatoforkney]

This guy, Sam, is someone with some serious anger issues.

"I'm not particularly fond of conversation," he says, lightly, and moves forward a little so he's within arm's length of Sam. Then, suddenly, the casual sarcastic act drops and he just looks seriously, seriously pissed. He moves his sword away from Sam's throat, but only so he can try to whack him across the face with its pommel.

[precognitioning]

So it would seem and as someone with some of his own, Sam is actually legitimately impressed. You know, somewhere. Where he is not trying to work out a way out of this alive.

Sam breathes out slightly when the blade moves away from his throat, swallows in a relieved sort of way, very aware of the slight trickle of blood down his throat. It tickles. He keeps reaching for his knife and gets about halfway there before there is very abruptly pommel to the face and fuck.

That was unexpected and it hurt. His lip splits open on his teeth and the taste of blood blooms in his mouth, and okay, okay, grabs for the knife the rest of the way and manages to get it into his hand.