Room 320, Saturday Morning
Illyria was not, per se, sleeping in, since she hadn't bothered going to sleep after last night's radio fiasco. She had instead spent the dark hours of the morning slicing at imaginary opponents in the preserve with her newly-returned sword, before she had to once again stow it in the weapons locker.
Now, after returning to an empty room, she was staring at Sam Winchester's empty bed and... not sulking. At all. The phrase you were looking for was meditation.
Until the banging on the door began.
[For the OMGWTF you're not breakfast, are you. Sam and Peter's boomshakalaka elsewhere modded with permission.]
Now, after returning to an empty room, she was staring at Sam Winchester's empty bed and... not sulking. At all. The phrase you were looking for was meditation.
Until the banging on the door began.
[For the OMGWTF you're not breakfast, are you. Sam and Peter's boomshakalaka elsewhere modded with permission.]