driftfleet | voice. a quick sad post.

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voice. a quick sad post.

Who: Sam Winchester
Broadcast: fleetwide
Action: Red Fish
When: after a sad shuffle :C

[Sam's very much subdued the day that Dean vanishes. If he reacts more viscerally to it, to knowing that this Dean was returning to his inevitable death at Sam and satan's own hands, nobody'd know it — he closes himself up in his room, keeps himself distant for a little while. It helps, because it also gets him away from those damned echoes that have begun to snowball. He's tried his best to ignore them, and with Dean suddenly gone... he doesn't trust himself to be anything but stressed at the sight.

Anyway. Um. Best to move forward, right...? Get back into things. Working at the bar keeps his mind busy, as does helping with the garden, and there's also helping with the weird messages from the planet, and — dammit, Sam, get back into things. Fake it 'til you make it. This too shall pass, if you pretend hard enough that you're fine. So he breathes in deep, breathes out, and addresses the fleet.]

My brother, Dean, um. Dean Winchester's left the fleet. I wasn't sure how many people knew him, but...

[A pause.]

Anyone want to talk? I could use something to keep me occupied. Your choice of topic, just shoot. I can be a pretty good listener, too.

[Help me get out of this funk, huh.]

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[He blinks at that, familiar with being at the other end of an interrogation.

But he can't really blame her; he's also given a shitload of interrogations himself.]

Unfortunately not. They're kind of dicks, actually.

But they do have wings. [Er, had. They burned away a few years ago. Anyways.] You can't see them with the human eye, but they're there. Usually they're a big ball of celestial energy and require human vessels in order walk the earth - otherwise their voices are too powerful for human ears to process.

[She may be familiar with this way of talking - Wilkes spoke with that sort of matter-of-fact focus; he's better at talking about this as if it's research, something he can educate her on more than his own terrible journey.]

-- And you're entirely certain they're...angels?

[ look. loki and thor are sorta-gods (as far as she understands it) but are actually more like aliens. she doesn't put it past these 'angels' to be anything more than just that: science, poorly explained.

regardless, she feels a kind of gratification that they've found a way to discuss this matter as plainly as they both can manage. plainly, but gradually. ]

Because I've heard of a few extraterrestrial beings claiming to be deities. [ -- and then there were reinhardt's tales of blue angels. ]

Oh, yeah, definitely. I deal with both. Angels and deities, I mean. In my world, the archangel Gabriel hid out from Heaven by pretending to be Loki. He kind of had a lot of problems with the whole Lucifer and God thing. Y'know. Family... drama.

[He sips.]

... Haven't met any aliens back home, but I'm open-minded.

[I slept with a few on a waystation, though.

... Accidentally...]

Edited 2017-01-03 03:37 (UTC)

Apparently, in my world, Loki's simply a pretentious self-involved bastard. [ and thor's gorgeous. but you didn't hear it from her. ]

But -- ultimately -- an alien. [ she gives her head a shake. swears under her breath. ] Well, what does this make you? Really?

[ because he's talked about predictions and destinies. doesn't really stack up to this myth of the simple hunter that he's been spinning all this time. ]

Oh, yeah, he was in mine, too.

[When he stops at that question, looking confused for a moment.

He blinks, rubs the back of his head, clears his throat.]

Uh, me?

... I'm... a hunter? From Kansas?

[ a stony look. she wonders if it's the truth -- or if he simply doesn't want to say anything beyond it. reconsidering her approach, she backpedals a little. ]

Alright. Fair enough. Tell me more about these books you mentioned. [ it's not a question. it's much closer to an order, though it's one he's free to refuse. ]

[He smirks a bit, leaning and playful.]

I refuse to tell you my deep dark secrets, agent. And I can handle a good waterboarding.

[ oh, lordy. she'd rather not admit to herself how exceedingly charming she finds the joking mixed in with the bravado. no, not bravado. legitimate bravery, however slim, in the face of uncomfortable conversations.

peggy clears her throat. despite the words that follow, there's something light-hearted just beyond her expression. ] Sam Winchester. [ ... ] I could do a lot worse than waterboarding.

[He looks exceedingly confident and certain when he smiles back, smooth and with practice; trained, like he's smoothly made his way through many a situation with just the dimples and clothes on his back.

Mischievous, even, contrary to his usual polite and formal demeanor.]

... I think I could take it.

[He could most certainly take it. And it's not a mark against Peggy's efficiency, either.

He's been in Lucifer's dogbowl, and he's still here.

It counts for something.]

But I guess since we're friends and I'm not a fugitive being held by this SSR, if you give me something a little stronger than tea, I think maybe I got a few more answers in me somewhere. Maybe a story about the time I was nearly done in by Bloody Mary. Or the time I met Prometheus; he was a pretty good guy.

Edited 2017-01-03 04:49 (UTC)

[ oh, what finesse! he might have made a fine agent for any office, she decides, when she watches the crook of his smile. paradoxically enough, it's the notion that he's laying bare his ability to play a person that causes an uptick in admiration. she considers her cup of tea, considers him, and then considers the bottle of almost-whiskey she's got stashed in her locker. ]

I might have something. [ her nails tap against the table. ] Wait here? I don't exactly stash it in the kitchen.

Hey, go for it. I've got nowhere to go in particular.

[He sips his tea, nearing its doom.]

Don't tell Nami I'm drinking, though; I work the bar tonight, and I don't think this is what working the bar is supposed to be. Even if it sounds like it goes hand-in-hand.

[Also he just - really would like to drink.

And forget that nagging thing the silence brings in, that reminds him his brother is gone.]

There's no need to worry. I can't say I talk with her much -- and I think I can handle a lie or two.

[ peggy pushes away from the table. ] Make yourself useful while I'm gone. Clear the cups. Or rinse them -- we might as well keep using the same bloody ones.

[ and with that very eloquent order given, she disappears down the hall. ]

Yes ma'am, I'll do my best.

[But he hops up eagerly to focus on anything other than his own restless mind.

He calls over his shoulder - ]

You know, you should talk with her more, though. I think you guys would get along great.

I kind of followed her here from a place before this we'd been trapped in.

[ when she returns, it's with a half bottle of something amber-coloured. she eases a cork out of the neck and pours them a pair of generous measures in the same cups that once held their tea.

abruptly, she picks up the topic he'd left hanging on the air as she'd left: ] It's not that we never speak. Only -- [ only peggy is guarded, and she gets the impression that nami is as well. so it's two adult women small-talking at one another, neither of them giving ground. ] Only I'm not interested in pulling teeth. [ peggy's offers a crooked smile. ] Recent discussion to the contrary.

Yeah, but she's a great listener once you get to know her.

[He smiles fondly.]

You seem pretty good at it yourself. I'm not really used to... talking. Last time I told someone about angels and demons and the apocalypse, I was committed to a mental institution. [A pause.] On purpose, I mean. We were investigating a wraith that had been killing patients. Sometimes you gotta take one for the team.

[ she could lie, she supposes, and tell him she simply likes interesting people. or that her training made her into a good listener. but the real truth is that the more she asks about others, the less they're asking about her.

and so she dives in: ] More undercover work. Yes, the job seems quite multi-faceted.

[ she nudges him his glass. picks up her own. cheers? ]

[He taps his to hers, familiar thanks to Dean's bullheaded need to do the same.]

Guess so. It wasn't really something I wanted to be, but... After some point, you kind of just accept that things are what they are. [He shrugs.] Do you like your job?

Edited 2017-01-03 05:37 (UTC)

[ he flips the question on her -- she makes her displeasure known with a pursing of her lips, but then she takes a drink. lets the burn soak into the back of her throat. it's not quite whiskey. but it's not quite not-whiskey, either. ]

I think that sometimes my job is very hard to like. Which is different to actually disliking it. [ peggy hems and haws. ] I know the work's worth doing. And I know I do my best work with the SSR. If I didn't have it...

[ she sighs. this part is difficult because she realizes how much of a challenge it can be for some of these more 'modern' types to understand. ] If I didn't have my job, I wouldn't have anything. The world isn't exactly bursting with opportunities for -- me.

[ not the sort she wants to take, at least. not yet. she hesitates on saying more, chambering a particularly nasty question for later just in case he prods deeper than she's comfortable with exploring. ]

[Aaaah. He nods, biting his lip.]

I can relate. Moreso because I'm pretty sure I come up in obituaries, which would be very hard to explain in an interview. [He grins, good-natured.] But... I also can't relate. I'm sorry society back home doesn't understand your worth - if it helps at all, I think a lot of people here do.

And it sounds like you do amazing work. They're lucky to have you on their team. The world is.

Well. I nearly didn't take it. I was -- [ wait. she cocks her head, pausing just as she's about to bring her cup back to her lips. ] Did you say obituaries?

[ she knows very well he said it. buying time, buying time. ]

[hey now that was just supposed to be a smug little comment about his life

you cant just ask about it

He drinks deeply, eyebrows high on his forehead. Same time-buying method.]

Winchesters. We die and don't stay dead.

[WOW NOT AT ALL INFORMATIVE??]

As in you've faked your deaths, or -- ?

[ she's not letting him play this out on technicalities. omissions. peggy leans ever-so-slightly forward so that her elbows are resting on the table's edge. she doesn't want to believe in the possibility she's asking about.

and yet. ]

[PURSED LIPS.

ANOTHER SIP.

Gosh, it's his old conversation with Nami all over again.]

No, um. Real deal, a few times.

But - you know... like I said, I'm good now.

[Actually, he might be dead right now back home. He's not... sure...]

Edited 2017-01-03 06:04 (UTC)

[ her mouth opens. shuts. opens again. and then peggy takes a long and stiff drink, shaking out her doubt in the aftermath. god above. ]

You're really going to stress credulity with me, aren't you? [ she sighs. ] I think it would be a harder claim to believe where it not for my last year here in the Fleet.

Yeaaaah. This universe-hopping really helps me out with these kinds of talks.

[He shrugs, like it's nothing more than talking about a storm during a picnic.]

You know, it's a dangerous job, and there's a lot of supernatural crap involved.

And hey, how many people can say they've been killed by a bolt of lightning?

[sAM]

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