Bobby hadn't been as shaken up as he was by yesterday's discovery in a long god damn time, includin' all the shit he'd been through with the Winchester boys. Now there was a little mound of earth in front of his hut that concealed somethin' he never thought he'd be seein' again, and never would if he could help it. It'd be a long damn time 'fore he
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"Oh, you look happy, old man. Considerin' you apparently rule an all." She gestured to him with her paperback. "That's a real informative shirt."
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She glanced at the jukebox, then looked around the rec-room.
"It someone's birthday?"
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But now the jukebox was hinting, rather insistently, that it was the man's birthday. Austin almost winced.
Bobby was old. Older than McKay, even. It couldn't have been pleasant to be reminded of that.
"Happy birthday," he managed nonetheless, not wanting to be rude. He paused, considered possible courses of action, then offered a friendly slap on the shoulder with the hand that wasn't hindered by a sling. His gaze slid down to Bobby's shirt. He wasn't entirely sure what old guys ruled. Potential graveyard spots, maybe. "I'm sorry you're old," he offered sympathetically. "Do you need a hug?"
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His eyebrows shot up at the question before looking at Austin incredulously. "No, I don't need a hug," he said, in an are you shittin' me? tone. "Gettin' old happens." To most people, except the ones who died 'fore they got the chance.
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"I've heard that," he nodded, expression on the edge of pensive but not quite there. "I'm four months old. But I'm not worried about natural death." The emphasis was on natural. He had more than enough prospects for other kinds of death.
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"Hello, Bobby. Is it your birthday?" she asked, unable to hide her grin at the look on his face.
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