He turns to see the figure flipping cards onto the table. Their first encounter had been too chaotic and brief for his dreaming mind to remember it. As it stood right now, the apartment building was the distant, hazy dream memory, barely a whisper at the back of his mind. He watched the little show of blood and cards with his jaw set. He didn't stop to interpret what he was being told, just that part of it was supposedly impossible and the rest just bugged him. Everyone else told him killing the devil was impossible with out allowing Michael to possess him. Why would someone suddenly change their mind on that?
"And just who the fuck are you?" It was a simple question, but he didn't bother to mask his irritation and seething anger on the matter. He needed to be out there looking for the colt. Looking for any other feasible way to kill the devil. Not sitting here watching some bastard bleed on someone else's furniture.
He turned to leave without waiting for an answer, but where he'd thought he'd seen a door, there was none. Whipping around, he took in all four walls. No doors, anywhere.
"And just who the fuck are you?" It was a simple question, but he didn't bother to mask his irritation and seething anger on the matter. He needed to be out there looking for the colt. Looking for any other feasible way to kill the devil. Not sitting here watching some bastard bleed on someone else's furniture.
He turned to leave without waiting for an answer, but where he'd thought he'd seen a door, there was none. Whipping around, he took in all four walls. No doors, anywhere.
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