Second round - carnival time!

[roadhouse_mama]

Who: Ellen Harvelle & ?
Where: The Carnival, the shooting gallery specifically
When: midday
What: Ellen's having a bit of fun, and bugging a friend - come admire her shooting skills, or critique them?

Comments

[roadhouse_mama]

Ellen turned at the familiar voice, smiling warmly. She nodded at the game runner with a quirked smile. "Have all of these prizes sent up to Bobby Singer's room. If he refuses them, stick them over in the garage."

That done with, she turned back to Sam. "Damn good to see you again, kid. And before you ask, I've already been through the whole battery of tests with Bobby. Salt, silver, holy water, the whole nine yards."

[roadhouse_mama]

"You don't have to apologize, Sam." Ellen caught the flask easily, unscrewed it and downed a small shot of the water. From her pocket she produced a small silver knife, one she'd carried for years, one undoubtedly Sam would recognize. She nicked her thumb, holding it up long enough for him to see the well of red blood.

"Bobby told me what happened in Carthage. I know. It's all right."

She held herself still, waiting for him to reach. If they'd been at home, she would have already closed the distance to hug him. Sam looked tired, harried, and in need of a friend.

[junkyardgrouch]

Now, a man has certain inalienable rights. Chief among them is the right to leave his damn room and not come back to find it filled up with little bean bag animals and creepy face dolls. Some of them weren't fit to burn.

And he knew just who to blame for this violation of his rights. The boys, idjits that they were, knew better. That left just one culprit.

He found her belly up to another shooting game with a pile of stuffed critters in front of her. "Hope ya know, this means war."

[roadhouse_mama]

"About time you showed up. I was wondering if it was going to take sending a carnie up there to get your attention, Bobby." Ellen threw a smile at him over her shoulder as she laid out another three targets.

Of course it meant war. That was the whole point and at least half the fun.

[junkyardgrouch]

Bobby grunted and leaned against the counter, picking up one of the toy guns to take aim at a few of the targets himself. In truth, he wasn't at all concerned about the junk she was piling in his room. The place had an attic for a reason and he was perfectly content to start a bonfire if he really needed to.

It was in his grouch contract to complain, though.

"I find a bearded lady in my room, I'm sendin' her to Dean. Boy ain't even been what you'd call picky."

He can talk to Oscar, his local union rep

[roadhouse_mama]

"Dean's never been picky," she said absently, taking out another target.

"You talked to Sam lately?" Best to start with the general questions, see if he was aware of how bad things were getting for the youngest Winchester. While she didn't want to worry him, they needed to find some way to help Sam. God knows he'd been through more than enough.