Intro | Haunted Hotel (for lulz) | 7H Curse | BYOA (if you like)
The loud shrill of the alarm is the first thing that wakes him, the second is the fact he's lying on his back and blinking up at a pristine white ceiling. Without thinking he arcs his arm out and slaps the alarm with his hand, fingers fumbling blindly to turn the damn thing off before it gives him a headache. He succeeds, but jerks his hand back
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"Doubt we'll ever find a map of this place. With as big as it is I doubt it'd even do any good. The map would have to be like, three feet long or something." If this was some weird fucked up love hotel he doubted there would be a map. Maps tended to show where the exits were, and if something brought them here he doubted they wanted them to get out. No map means finding no exits. But he kept that little tidbit to himself, not wanting to freak Jo out anymore than she was already.
Walking over to the door -- which was closed, though he didn't remember closing it when he came inside -- Dean pulled the handle only to jerk back, his grip slipping. He tried again but the door didn't budge. Gripping the handle with both hands, and planting one foot on the wall next to the door for leverage, he twisted it and pulled hard but the door still didn't budge.
"Son of a bitch!"
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The next scene that ensued in front of her, as troubling as the fact that the door wouldn't open was, was also very humorous to her. She stifled a laugh, or at least tried to as she walked over to him. "Can't get the door open there Dean?" She gave the handle a try to, first pulling on it. Once, Twice. Then giving it a solid push, becoming more perplexed by the minute. "Shit..."
A pause, after which she gave it a good kick, which achieved nothing. A frustrated groan, raking her hand through her curls again, as she looked up at Dean, grimacing. "Hey, when did you even close door?!"
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"I didn't! I was too worried about you bustin' in here to shut the goddamn door." Dean snapped, kicking at the door in annoyance. "Fucking hotel." He muttered and pulled the knife from his belt as he stalked up and tried to pry off the hinge bolts on the door. He'd gotten out of a few rooms this way but no matter how hard he tried, the bolts were popping up. He tried all three of them before cursing.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck." He ground out, forcing himself to not throw anything, like one of the few only weapons they had between them.
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Jo gives him a solid look before stepping aside to let him try and get the bolts out."Hey, don't blame me for this!" A small pout. "That's some heavy duty door..." it was a mutter, before she flinched lightly as the curses starting. She lifted her brows, mildly amused by his antics, but mostly having the good sense that panicing about this wasn't going to get them anywhere good.
"Hey," she stepped forward, almost gingerly placing a hand on his shoulder, her other traveling to rest of his forearm, just in case he does try and throw a knife or something. "Hey! Freaking out about this isn't going to get us anywhere." Trying to keep her voice level and stern. Because two of them panicing was even less counterproductive. "Let's just think about this...or something..." Damn it. She really wasn't helping....
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"Yeah, or something. If there were windows in the damn place we could break one out and try to climb out." But since there were no windows -- and what kind of hotel room doesn't have windows, seriously -- that option was out. He didn't want to just sit on his ass either, though that was largely looking like their only option right now.
(ooc: Oooh nice! Dean is from midway through s5 ep1, right after their visit to Chuck and finding out Cas exploded. He disappeared when him and Sam were in the motel after that.)
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She didn't like being 'caged' either. She didn't have good experience with that. Of course, Dean had worse, but still. She tilted her head upwards, gaze stopping on the vent. It was too high for her to reach alone, so she looked at Dean first, before deciding she can do it herself. Naturally...
"Hey, up there," she pointed, already striding to the desk, putting her weight into it, beginning to drag it over to the vent. She didn't exactly know what that would achieve. But maybe if someone was int he room over, they could ask them to unlock the door?
Climbing onto the polished wooden desk, she straightened up, even standing on the tips of her toes to see anything. She breathed, accidentally blowing away the dust in the vent, quickly turning away from it, nearly loosing her balance. "Damn it....They missed a spot."
((ooc: Oooh! Okay! 8D awesome. So we're almost on the same page~))
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Walking over he helped her push the desk up against the wall and stood behind her to watch her balance. When she lost it he immediately reached up to steady her and wound up planting his hands right on her ass. He let go quickly once he was sure she wouldn't tumble and cleared his throat. "Sorry bout that."
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She flinched when Dean tried to steady her balance, promptly hiding her slightly reddening cheeks. She gave a small laugh, "Better than letting me fall," pause. "Ugh...thanks?" Glancing down at him.
She got out her own knife now, trying the bolts of the vent. "Oh come on," it was her turn to growl at the fact that this whole 'get the vent' open thing wasn't working. "It's...not working..." The knife slipped off the bolt, which was relentlessly not moving from it's spot, and the sharp edge managed to painfully nick her palm, making the knife slip from her hand. "Shit," a frown, an aggravated sigh, as she jumped down from the desk to the floor, bending to pick the knife up, before lifting to look at her bleeding thumb.
A galre at the vent, as if that would do anything. "It's like this room doesn't want us to get out."
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He watched as she tried to unscrew the bolts and like the door they weren't coming loose. Well, there went that damn idea. And it was a good one too. He winced when she cut herself and helping her down he grabbed her hand and looked at it. "C'mere." He said, tugging her up close so he could inspect her hand. "Not too bad, should go rinse it out and I'll see if there's some bandages or something around here. Can't afford to get that shit infected if we can't get out." Dean then gingerly let her hand go and started rifling around the drawers or some sort of first aid kit.
"Of course it doesn't, but it was a good idea tho, was hopin' it'd work."
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"What? No...it's fine," but she stepped closer at the tug, lifting her gaze to study his face, disliking the fact that she felt like a little girl with a crush around him. She thought she got over that.
With a snort, she walked to the bathroom, grabbing one of the hand towels, returning to the room. "It's just a cut Dean. No big deal," she shrugged, tapping his shoulder as she walked over to sit on the bed again, brushing her thumb into the towel.
A pause, furrowing her brows as she bit her lip. "Then, what do we do? Did this place give you any hints when you woke up? Because I got nothing."
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Since he's got nothing better to do, Dean started pacing the room, hoping maybe he'll be able to think of something. But short of blowing the fucking door down .. hey, wait a minute. Without pause Dean grabs his shotgun, aims just to the left of the door knob and fires. The shot is loud in the otherwise quiet room but it does nothing to the door. Doesn't even dent the fucking thing. "You've got to be shitting me, that did nothin!?" Fuck.
Walking over to the opposite bed, Dean flopped dow onto it and covered his face with his hands as he cursed a blue streak beneath his breath. "Got nothin' either. Was nothin' there in my room, just my bag though half my clothes and weapons were missing and it wasn't like that when I went to bed."
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A sigh, going down onto the bed in a small stretch, raking her brain for ideas. She was fresh out. The vent? No. The door? No. Hell, even blowing a hole through it didn't work. "Weird huh? What the hell would they want with your clothes?" Jo huffed, staring at the ceiling, before turning her head towards Dean. "So what? Stare at the ceiling?" Okay, so hewas kind of funny when he's angry, and he wasn't bad company at all. Easy on the eyes too.
"Ugh, sorry for not keeping in touch, by the way..." It was an awkward apology, she wasn't even sure what she was apologizing for. At the same time, she thought it needed to be said...Honestly, she hoped he wouldn't dwell on it too much.
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"Until this place decides it's tire of fucking with us and lets us out. I doubt we're going anywhere if shooting the damn door down didn't work. Might just have to wait it out. Maybe there's a timer on the door or some shit." Huh, hadn't thought of that before.
Dean looked over at the apology, and propped himself up onto his forearm to look at her better, "Don't worry about it, Jo. It's the life, you know? Sometimes you get caught up in other shit. Coulda called too, if I'd thought of it. And really, shit's been so crazy it was kinda the last thing I was thinking of. So, don't sweat it, alright? Shit happens."
He watched her for a few moments, silent. "We'll be okay, Jo." He said quietly, a serious tone to his voice. "We'll get outta this, won't let nothin' happen to you."
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Hearing him shift, she turned to look at him again, scanning, lingering over his features. A small smile, nodding. "Okay. Yeah....Shit happens." And thanks for not dwelling on it. It was almost like a weight lifted off her shoulders.
"I know," a sigh. "Dean, I can take care of myself you know." Her smirk widens, quirking an eyebrow as she teases him: "If anything, it's gonna be me watching your ass."
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"Watching my ass, huh? I bet you watch my ass." Dean said with a little playful grin. Yeah, he knew he was hot.
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