In the hotel that rock built. [Open]

[chosenfreedom]

Characters: Dean Winchester, anyone
Time: Afternoon
Location: Hard Rock Hotel lobby
Content: Getting settled in the new place, and figuring where the hell to go or do now.
Format: Prose, multiple threads welcome
Warnings: Winchester alert for innuendo, crudeness, language.

Comments

[godofcologne]

The Hard Rock was a familiar, comfortable place for Thomas by now, but today as he headed out of the lobby, there was a distinct edge of the furtive about him. He waited a full minute before stepping out of the elevator, and he looked behind him often, as if expecting someone to materialize.

He stopped short at the sight of Dean, then checked behind him again. His coast was clear, at least for the moment. He arched an eyebrow at the afternoon sky visible outside the bank of windows, and back at Dean. "Of all the gin joints in all the hotels in this town, you walk into mine," he drawled. "Who'd I piss off in a past life?"

[chosenfreedom]

Dean gave him a wide smirk, "Well hi-diddly-oh, neighbor." And he punctuated that quote with another shot.

"You think you need to go to a past life to find people you've pissed off?"

[godofcologne]

That made Thomas laugh, until the motion set a jolt of pain shooting through his chest, cutting him off prematurely. The gunshot wound was healing far far slower than he'd had expected, and he hadn't dared borrowing more of the Hunger's strength to speed the process, not with what had happened the last few times he'd tried.

"People I piss off in this life tend to shoot me instead of plaguing me with the drunk and homeless," he replied, returning Dean's smirk with one of his own.

[chosenfreedom]

He saw something on the network about people losing powers. Just leveled the playing field in his opinion.

"Ain't homeless. We found a new room to crash in for ourselves." He wasn't going to comment on the drunk part. Other than it was too early for him to get there.