text-mexin' (and food)
Sam set off down the street from the motel, shrugging off his jacket and tying it around his waist. Even in Michigan, it was too warm for this many layers.
He thought about salad. Cucumbers. Ranch dressing. Food not made of animal and then grilled. Corn. French bread.
God, their diet sucked. He grinned to himself and squinted against the sun, trying to see if he could find a grocery store.
Then, almost as an afterthought, he pulled out his phone.
hey, he typed. And stopped. Eloquent, Winchester, good job. it's sam. any leprechauns yet? There. That was simple enough. It had been a while since he'd gotten Dawn's number, maybe they'd set off already. They almost definitely hadn't reached Colorado yet, though, whatever mode of transport they were taking. He was a little jealous. He'd much rather be doing a regular job than looking for Castiel.... Not because he didn't like Castiel (he was neutral on the subject, really), but he missed the mundane hauntings, the mystical creatures.
He realized he was still staring at his phone, the message sitting there in the text field. Right.
Sam scrolled through the names in the address book, and pressed send, and then tucked the phone back into his pocket and continued down the street, scanning for a market, anything.
Sending Message ---> Dawn Summers
He thought about salad. Cucumbers. Ranch dressing. Food not made of animal and then grilled. Corn. French bread.
God, their diet sucked. He grinned to himself and squinted against the sun, trying to see if he could find a grocery store.
Then, almost as an afterthought, he pulled out his phone.
hey, he typed. And stopped. Eloquent, Winchester, good job. it's sam. any leprechauns yet? There. That was simple enough. It had been a while since he'd gotten Dawn's number, maybe they'd set off already. They almost definitely hadn't reached Colorado yet, though, whatever mode of transport they were taking. He was a little jealous. He'd much rather be doing a regular job than looking for Castiel.... Not because he didn't like Castiel (he was neutral on the subject, really), but he missed the mundane hauntings, the mystical creatures.
He realized he was still staring at his phone, the message sitting there in the text field. Right.
Sam scrolled through the names in the address book, and pressed send, and then tucked the phone back into his pocket and continued down the street, scanning for a market, anything.
Sending Message ---> Dawn Summers