(After thisDean had got some sleep, and now he was lying out in the Impala after having some beer from the Drunken Dragon tavern. It helped a little
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Ben nodded amiably. "I practice every day." He gave the transport -- if it could be called a transport at all -- a brief look-over. It appeared well cared for, but, glancing at the wheels, like it could have been old when the stars were young. And the feelings rippling through the Force... it wasn't the surprising optimism of most people aboard the ship. So what had happened?
Samus, with a rather large tool box propped on her shoulder, was making two stops in the hangar. One at her bike and one at her ship. The two were kept in separate areas, so she had a bit of walking to do.
She weaved in between various vehicles to cut down her trip. However, when walking next to one Impala, she happened to notice that it was, well, occupied. And its occupant did not look very happy. He also happened to smell of alcohol. She raised a half-interested eyebrow.
This was when she would cross her arms and tilt her head back to look more intimidating, but unfortunately one of her arms is kind of, well, in use at the moment.
So her 'Oh pft, seriously?' face will have to do, "Not quite. More expressing my misplaced curiosity in why you're lying there."
When he got the comm message, Sam sat there for a few moments just staring at it. It was true. No more Earth. No more worrying about Lucifer and Michael and the Apocalypse.
He wasn't certain if this was better or worse, somehow. At least the world ending hadn't been their fault. That, at least, he was pretty certain about.
Still, wasn't something he wanted to deal with alone and he'd guess that Dean probably didn't either. Or, at least, he wasn't GOING to deal with it alone. Which was why Sam headed down to the Impala, stopping at the hood for a moment to watch Dean before stepping forward. "Got any more of that?"
He went around to climb in the passenger side. It felt right. A lot better than those four months when he'd been the sole driver. "Damn. I guess...maybe there was some part of me that was kind of hoping, you know? That it wasn't as bad as they were saying."
"Yeah me too," Dean answered. "Even though it would have meant the Apocalypse was still happening and we're up here with our thumbs up our asses in space somewhere." He didn't want to say how he watched his brother die again, trying to protect them. That even the angels were being cut down. Stupid dicks with wings, but he wasn't sure they deserved it.
"I just hope that Stacy better thought to grab some of them. That she didn't just save our sorry asses and not anybody else."
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He gestured with his hand to the Impala.
"Got a thing for classic cars?"
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She weaved in between various vehicles to cut down her trip. However, when walking next to one Impala, she happened to notice that it was, well, occupied. And its occupant did not look very happy. He also happened to smell of alcohol. She raised a half-interested eyebrow.
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"Admiring the scenery?"
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So her 'Oh pft, seriously?' face will have to do, "Not quite. More expressing my misplaced curiosity in why you're lying there."
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He wasn't certain if this was better or worse, somehow. At least the world ending hadn't been their fault. That, at least, he was pretty certain about.
Still, wasn't something he wanted to deal with alone and he'd guess that Dean probably didn't either. Or, at least, he wasn't GOING to deal with it alone. Which was why Sam headed down to the Impala, stopping at the hood for a moment to watch Dean before stepping forward. "Got any more of that?"
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After a few minutes, he just said, "I asked Stacy. She showed me. That's it."
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"I just hope that Stacy better thought to grab some of them. That she didn't just save our sorry asses and not anybody else."
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