Something small and grey is nosing along in the grass, biting off dandelions and tonguing them into a crude bouquet (and occasionally eating one). In time, it may shuffle to the porch and up the steps, pausing and dropping the bouquet onto the decking.
"Nice day," the small plush-looking donkey says, in a deep, gloomy voice.
He doesn't look up at first, still staring into the distance. "Yeah, nice day," he says, idly and darkly, and then turns his head to look at who he's talking to and actually jumps.
...that's Eeyore.
"What the-"
Things just got about twelve times weirder, like things weren't whacked out enough already.
"Huh?" Eeyore says, looking around, expecting to see something that startled the Sad-Looking Man. He hasn't quite gotten used to the fact that his presence Startles People.
...startles people, yes. Sam is startled. That's one word for it. "---you're Eeyore," he says, a little blankly, "And I'm either very drunk or things just got really strange. And even less explainable."
Because Anita and broken boys usually work better than we expect...
She'll wander over, not sure at first whether this is an elf (let's face it, this guy is huge) or what. But mostly? Hey, she's sensing some emo, and apparently, that attracts her like jam attracts bees. Or something.
"Hey," she offers in a fairly leisurely fashion. She's still at a polite, respectful distance.
It's fascinating how many people can be unhappy at the Mansion these days, she muses. Must be something in the air.
Hope that's alright? Let me know if you'd like someone in particular. ♥
Sam insists he is not broken. Just a little bent. We claim he is in total denial and just rather badly put back together and on the verge of falling apart again.
Especially huge compared to you, tiny!Anita.
He is aware of her approach from a distance, and moves his head a hair to watch her warily. His current default setting with pretty much everyone (except Guinevere and ...to some degree Dean). When she addresses him, he lifts his head the rest of the way, eyes cast sideways, rather than directly at her.
"Hey."
Only if you feel like it! Not thinking of anyone at the moment.
Good news is, little as she is, Anita probably looks fairly harmless. If she's sporting the Browning, it's nowhere visible, and her hands are were Sam can see them.
She waves, gives him a twitchy smile. "--- don't think we've met before," Anita offers ineffectually.
She does; but then again, there have been a lot of pretty young things that turned out to be, say, demons. And some of them even acted nice. But the hands in plain sight helps, a little.
"--nope," Sam says, after another second's pause. "Pretty sure we haven't."
Not at your most socially apt today, are you, Sam.
SORRY I'M LATE. *runs in with papers flying*surfaceshineMay 6 2011, 04:33:18 UTC
Dean noticed, too; he's basically going out of his mind trying to notice everything at once, mind you, but he had already known the time was getting close when it happened. And yeah, he knows the past couple of years have sucked ass like crazy - he was there, after all, more or less - and this one is weirder if not worse, so he's making extra special effort today to not be wrestling with his own problems
( ... )
THE PARTY'S STILL ON *hands out party hat*precognitioningMay 6 2011, 05:29:46 UTC
And he was kind of hoping it would pass by without incident and he could brood in peace. Oh, Sam.
Sam is at least halfway distracted, but he probably could have moved out of the way - doesn't this time, though, but he does toss a half-hearted grimace Dean's way. Because it's expected. On the other hand, his eyebrows shoot halfway up his forehead at the tone and the grin, because...that's different.
And the bleak and broody part wonders how long it's going to last.
He takes in the towels, though, and the garb, and says, "You're shitting me."
AWESOME. *blows noisemaker*surfaceshineMay 6 2011, 22:58:08 UTC
Dean's middle name is actually Incident, and he is shocked and offended that Sam would think he wouldn't happen today. And he is hellbent on happening, believe you us. He has locked the angst in a tiny, steel box and left it back in the room for the day. If he's lucky, maybe someone will steal it while they're gone.
Dean gives him a completely straight face in return for that comment, thank you very much.
"You gone deaf all of a sudden? C'mon - you won't melt, I promise." He claps his hands, loudly, like Dad used to do to drive his sleepy sons out of bed before dawn, then hikes a thumb over his shoulder towards the lake. "And I've already commandeered the biggest boat I could find, so we're good on that score."
He seems to have rediscovered his Force of Nature aspect. He's already turning to continue on his previous course.
WE'RE HAVING CAKE TOO.precognitioningMay 7 2011, 06:14:01 UTC
Yes, but what if it comes back. Not that he wouldn't appreciate that box being gone, and hey, if someone can wrestle Sam's away we will count it as a bonus.
Sam's expression is briefly pained, but he knows a Dean it's relatively futile to resist when he sees one, and it doesn't quite seem worth digging in his heels. Which doesn't mean he doesn't drag them.
He glances at what's left of his beer and has a few more swallows before setting it down and getting up, brushing off his jeans. "Not deaf, just incredulous," he comments, and makes a face. Dean does the weirdest things.
Brooding. Guinevere doesn't know anything about that, oh no, she doesn't.
She might even have been doing some of her own, quietly, discreetly, trying to not draw any attention, and particularly not Sebastian's, whom she is desperately trying not to hurt.
But brooding still, and finding herself going back, in her mind, to the strange and very tall young man who came of late.
And perhaps her moody walk simply takes her to where Sam is doing some brooding of his own, and she doesn't quite notice, at first, too lost in her thoughts to quite realize who is in her direct surroundings.
Nothing at all. Guinevere has never brooded. Ever. And certainly not right now. (We should have an Olympics, really. Typist wonders who would win.)
Sam, however, lifts his head as soon as someone moves even a little close, paying attention to his surroundings almost a little too much, as usual. He looks up and kind of pauses. He hasn't seen her since that night at the - whatever that was, and whatever that was, and...
Yeah, so just watching her, for the moment, beer dangling loosely from his fingers, frowning between his eyebrows and in a little crease around his mouth.
After a while, Guinevere feels observed, and she might then startle out of her moody contemplation. She doesn't see Sam immediately - it takes her a moment to drape her gaze over him, and when she does, she finds that it's an odd source of pleasure - almost a disconcerting one.
She notices the bottle, notices that he isn't greeting her, just watching, and she freezes, eyes a bit wide.
What if the bottle was a bad sign? What if it did things to him? What if Guinevere was too fanciful for her own good? What if she wasn't welcome? What if?
She colors for no apparent reason and stutters a quiet, timid greeting, eyes wide like a doe in a clearing.
She looks so - nervous. Sam feels an immediate and irrational surge of guilt, but then that's been his norm lately, and hastens to set the bottle down out of sight and if not smile, at least try to look less - under a dark cloud. "--hey," he says, a bit less eloquently. "Um - Guinevere. How're you - how've you been?"
Arms dangling over the porch as well as his legs after setting down the bottle, Sam manages to look even ganglier than usual.
Comments 182
"Nice day," the small plush-looking donkey says, in a deep, gloomy voice.
Reply
...that's Eeyore.
"What the-"
Things just got about twelve times weirder, like things weren't whacked out enough already.
Reply
Reply
Reply
She'll wander over, not sure at first whether this is an elf (let's face it, this guy is huge) or what. But mostly? Hey, she's sensing some emo, and apparently, that attracts her like jam attracts bees. Or something.
"Hey," she offers in a fairly leisurely fashion. She's still at a polite, respectful distance.
It's fascinating how many people can be unhappy at the Mansion these days, she muses. Must be something in the air.
Hope that's alright? Let me know if you'd like someone in particular. ♥
Reply
Especially huge compared to you, tiny!Anita.
He is aware of her approach from a distance, and moves his head a hair to watch her warily. His current default setting with pretty much everyone (except Guinevere and ...to some degree Dean). When she addresses him, he lifts his head the rest of the way, eyes cast sideways, rather than directly at her.
"Hey."
Only if you feel like it! Not thinking of anyone at the moment.
Reply
She waves, gives him a twitchy smile. "--- don't think we've met before," Anita offers ineffectually.
Reply
"--nope," Sam says, after another second's pause. "Pretty sure we haven't."
Not at your most socially apt today, are you, Sam.
Reply
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Sam is at least halfway distracted, but he probably could have moved out of the way - doesn't this time, though, but he does toss a half-hearted grimace Dean's way. Because it's expected. On the other hand, his eyebrows shoot halfway up his forehead at the tone and the grin, because...that's different.
And the bleak and broody part wonders how long it's going to last.
He takes in the towels, though, and the garb, and says, "You're shitting me."
But his mouth almost twitches.
IT'S OKAY DEAN typists have lives, we understand.
Reply
Dean gives him a completely straight face in return for that comment, thank you very much.
"You gone deaf all of a sudden? C'mon - you won't melt, I promise." He claps his hands, loudly, like Dad used to do to drive his sleepy sons out of bed before dawn, then hikes a thumb over his shoulder towards the lake. "And I've already commandeered the biggest boat I could find, so we're good on that score."
He seems to have rediscovered his Force of Nature aspect. He's already turning to continue on his previous course.
Reply
Sam's expression is briefly pained, but he knows a Dean it's relatively futile to resist when he sees one, and it doesn't quite seem worth digging in his heels. Which doesn't mean he doesn't drag them.
He glances at what's left of his beer and has a few more swallows before setting it down and getting up, brushing off his jeans. "Not deaf, just incredulous," he comments, and makes a face. Dean does the weirdest things.
But he does start trudging after his brother.
Reply
She might even have been doing some of her own, quietly, discreetly, trying to not draw any attention, and particularly not Sebastian's, whom she is desperately trying not to hurt.
But brooding still, and finding herself going back, in her mind, to the strange and very tall young man who came of late.
And perhaps her moody walk simply takes her to where Sam is doing some brooding of his own, and she doesn't quite notice, at first, too lost in her thoughts to quite realize who is in her direct surroundings.
Reply
Sam, however, lifts his head as soon as someone moves even a little close, paying attention to his surroundings almost a little too much, as usual. He looks up and kind of pauses. He hasn't seen her since that night at the - whatever that was, and whatever that was, and...
Yeah, so just watching her, for the moment, beer dangling loosely from his fingers, frowning between his eyebrows and in a little crease around his mouth.
She looks - distracted. Or something.
Reply
She notices the bottle, notices that he isn't greeting her, just watching, and she freezes, eyes a bit wide.
What if the bottle was a bad sign? What if it did things to him? What if Guinevere was too fanciful for her own good? What if she wasn't welcome? What if?
She colors for no apparent reason and stutters a quiet, timid greeting, eyes wide like a doe in a clearing.
"-- Good morrow --"
Reply
Arms dangling over the porch as well as his legs after setting down the bottle, Sam manages to look even ganglier than usual.
Reply
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