forgetyourusedtobe | Є014 text//spam

text - mal.

busy?

text - chris.

i'm bored. let's do something.

text - arkin.

i need to talk to you. got a minute?

spam - bond.

[Elena has spent some time making the arm cuff for Bond. She cut up and stitched a jacket for material and broke as well as sharpened some wooden furniture for the stakes.]

[He may or may not like it. She doesn't really care if he does. He covered for her when he didn't have to and she figures she owes him something for that.]

[Elena brings it by his cabin and knocks.]

spam - dean.

[Elena knocks on Dean's door because she was rude the last time they spoke. Because, in the end, he's right. No one gets to tell him to care or not care about her any more than they get to tell her to care or not to care about anything at all.]

[She's not empty-handed for this burying of the hatchet though. There's a bottle of JD in her hand as she waits for him to answer.]

spam - cassel.

[Elena waits to see Cassel last. Of all the people she can't stand, he's at the very top of the list. She's not sorry for what she did and she never will be as far as she's concerned. But this radio silence is driving her nuts. She'd rather they be enemies or at least tenuous allies again. But none of this hovering around in a nebulous who-the-hell-knows state.]

[She doesn't knock on his door though. She just hangs outside of it like she did last time, waiting.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Elena takes the glass, inspecting it mildly to be sure it's clean before she takes a drink out of it.]

And what? You boys just traveled cross-country hunting monsters?

Hope you had good dental.

Yeah. Yeah we did. Do. [Did.] Best insurance you can fake.

[He shrugs, taking his own in one shot and turning to pour another around the face he pulls, which morphs into a grin.]

Not that I'm complainin', but this is a bit... weird.

[Elena tilts her head as if she's contemplating how weird it is for her. But then oops, sarcasm.]

How fortunate for me that your comfort isn't my priority. [She shrugs.] I didn't feel like drinking alone and you know more about me than I know about you.

I don't think that's really fair.

[That's a little more like it and Dean rolls his eyes. He hasn't exactly been paying attention to the rest of the boat, he doesn't know what the flood is about, but at least he can understand those motivations. There's not much she can do to hurt him with any of it anymore anyway. Too many people know too much.

So he shrugs.]

Then ask. But I reserve the right to tell you to step off.

[Elena smirks.]

Fair enough.

[Though she absolutely reserves the right to disregard him telling her to step off. She's being nice, that doesn't mean not any less pushy.]

Where are you from? I mean originally. Unless your mom gave birth to you in the backseat of a car.

[Dean can handle pushy, though. Not as well right now as normally, but that's neither here nor there.]

Kansas. Not that it matters much. I didn't stay there long enough to really be from there.

[Yes he did. He still calls Lawrence home in his head, sometimes, and he still remembers that house before it was filled with smoke.]

Uh-huh... [Elena replies, not at all skeptical.]

How much younger is your little brother? Or should I say was?

[She can be skeptical all she wants, but she doesn't push it further right now, so Dean considers it a win. If he didn't have low standards for victory, he'd just be a loser.

Well. Maybe he is anyway. He draws in a breath to answer the question but it turns sour in his mouth when she corrects it to the past tense, giving her a sharp look.]

I got him back. My last deal was for Sam, no strings attached.

We are four years apart.

[Elena is not the type to sneer right now, but she comes damn close to it.]

Your big brother hero complex is charming, you know that?

[Dean is too worn thin for his usual shenanigans, or to hide how deep the cut goes, and besides. She's already seen. So he just looks at her flatly instead, drink paused halfway up to his mouth.]

You're the one that wanted to chat.

Strike a nerve, did I?

[She couldn't possibly look more pleased with herself.]

[But Dean, though the answer is clearly yes, rolls his eyes.]

Congratulations: you figured out the same thing everyone that's known me for more'n five minutes figures out. Oh, and with the benefit of seeing a chunk of my life firsthand, too. Clever.

Any other glaringly obvious nerves you'd like to take a swing at while you're here?

[She seems to consider the question a moment, emptying the contents of her glass.]

Hm... What about your parents? I noticed you mentioned your Dad, but what about Mommy Dearest?

[Yahtzee. Dean drains his glass, too, but then he straightens up and shakes his head around swallowing.

Normally he has thicker skin than this, he can deflect more seamlessly, turn it into a joke. He is not, however, normal right now; he hasn't been for the past month.]

Nope. Okay, whatever this is? We're done.

[That not enough to discourage her and she smiles.]

Oh c'mon, Dean. I thought you were made of tougher stuff than that.

No you didn't. You don't. And you know what? That's fine.

[It's a week after the anniversary of Mary's murder, it's a little more than that since the Mirror Barge, and it's...

The hunter shakes his head again.]

But the rest of us don't just get to switch our emotions off. I'm not doing this dance with you just because you think it's hilarious.

[Okay, a different approach.]

I never said I thought it was hilarious. I lost my mom, too. Or did you forget that?

No, I didn't. But your face isn't matching your words. Makes it kind of hard to think that's what you actually want to talk about.

Sorry, I don't know how to look pathetic. But if you want to share your secret...

Є014 text//spam

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