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.
Sam gives her a bit of eyebrows that are half concerned and half confused. "--ah, yeah. Sure. Not my porch." He rolls his shoulders back and glances at his bottle, has another drink from it.
He can hear the strain in her laugh and wonders, a little - but it's none of his business, is it? Wouldn't want to pry. Maybe she's just being friendly, don't overanalyze. (Overanalyzing is what's kept you alive. Yeah, but it's gotten you killed too...)
It is never too early for drinking when you are a brooding Winchester, the typist swears. And Sam slides a stare sideways at her, beginning to feel - not uncomfortable, but uncertain. Self-conscious.
He doesn't say anything, though, just shifts minutely, keeping one sidelong eye on her, and waiting. Wondering if he should maybe move on.
Sam gives her a bit of a sideways eyebrow, but people here, he's noticed, don't seem to be so much into the minding their own business as Sam is used to. Have to adjust, anyway.
He shrugs one shoulder. "Late night." Keeping his tone neutral and entirely basic. "Bad day."
Simple answers, intended to deter. Of course, he doesn't know Anita.
Sam pinches the bridge of his nose, but only momentarily. Come on, play nice. She's just making conversation. "You mean - the Morgoth one, or whatever it is? No, not that bad." His chuckle is a little humorous. "Wouldn't just be sitting here if that were the case."
"Okay, so you know about him. Clearly, we need to make proper introductions." She doesn't offer a handshake. "Anita Blake. Federal Marshall, vampire hunter, professional animater, what have you."
...that title earns a double-take. "Federal Marshall and hunter? How do you manage to hold down both?" Is the first question out of his mouth, followed by, "Professional what?"
Because that sounds like necromancy to him, which is generally a Bad Idea as far as he has encountered. The last one broke his wrist. That hurt.
And he would say that there's no such thing as formerly but - yeah, stalled on the first part.
Anita decides to simplify things, and simply replies to Sam's first question. This might be deliberate.
"The former legalizes the latter," she explains. "Probably helps if you know that I'm from a place where vampires and lycanthropes are actually legalized citizens and live openly. I deal with the rogues."
Eyebrows crawling further up with every word she says. And peaking halfway up his forehead, because what. What. "Wait," he says, "You're saying that - there are non-rogue vampires and werewolves. How the fuck does that work?" Because while, yeah, one family of vampires subsisting on non-human blood, that does not a whole species make, and they tried the thing with the werewolves, and that went fantastically. (To Sam's utter misery.)
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. ♥
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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.
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She waves, gives him a twitchy smile. "--- don't think we've met before," Anita offers ineffectually.
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"--nope," Sam says, after another second's pause. "Pretty sure we haven't."
Not at your most socially apt today, are you, Sam.
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"You know. Get rid of the sink complexion and all."
She's still keeping a respectful distance, just in case.
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He can hear the strain in her laugh and wonders, a little - but it's none of his business, is it? Wouldn't want to pry. Maybe she's just being friendly, don't overanalyze. (Overanalyzing is what's kept you alive. Yeah, but it's gotten you killed too...)
And so on.
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She'd comment on the drinking - much too early in her opinion, but she's trying to mind her own business.
That's always worked well with her. Right.
Next tag, she's saying something, I think. >.>
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He doesn't say anything, though, just shifts minutely, keeping one sidelong eye on her, and waiting. Wondering if he should maybe move on.
(To where? You don't have anywhere to go.)
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"Liquid breakfast?" She asks, offhandedly.
It's just an opener. Just a strange hello. Nothing to worry too much about.
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He shrugs one shoulder. "Late night." Keeping his tone neutral and entirely basic. "Bad day."
Simple answers, intended to deter. Of course, he doesn't know Anita.
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We're willing to bet she's going to manage a conversation anyway.
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No bets on this end. She probably will.
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Anita pauses.
"Okay, so you know about him. Clearly, we need to make proper introductions." She doesn't offer a handshake. "Anita Blake. Federal Marshall, vampire hunter, professional animater, what have you."
She shrugs. "All formerly, of course."
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Because that sounds like necromancy to him, which is generally a Bad Idea as far as he has encountered. The last one broke his wrist. That hurt.
And he would say that there's no such thing as formerly but - yeah, stalled on the first part.
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"The former legalizes the latter," she explains. "Probably helps if you know that I'm from a place where vampires and lycanthropes are actually legalized citizens and live openly. I deal with the rogues."
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At least she's distracted him from his brooding?
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