Who: Jo Harvelle Max Guevara, Alaric Saltzman -- and SOMEONE?
Where: Corner booth at the Lux.
When: Late, a bit before/after closing. Mostly after
this conversation with Sam.
What: Drinking. Lots of drinking and feeling like shit.
Note: ANYONE is welcome. PROSE or [SPAM] is a-okay with me
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She wandered over as she wiped down the tables for the end of the night, before nodding to the bottle.
"What's the occasion?"
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"No occasion. Just figured I could drink a bit more tonight."
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Back home, maybe. Here in the castle, not so much.
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"Things are weird."
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"You're kind of weird, my kind of weird, or an actual normal person's kind of weird?"
The fact that they needed that kind of qualification said so much about their lives.
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"Sam Winchester kind of weird, I guess, because it's his words -- not mine."
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"He said that 'we're weird' that he can't hang out with me because it's weird."
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That actually might be fun.
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"No, I just, I thought things were okay and I shouldn't care this much. I shouldn't. I just never had to deal with this side of it. I never stuck around long enough for it to be weird -- or even better it never got to that spot where it could get weird."
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"C'mon." She reached for the glass and the bottle, before handing them off to the nearest employee she can find. "I'll walk you home." Shower and sleep seemed like the better idea right now then drowning her sorrows more.
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"M'kay," Jo agreed, standing up and exhaling to try and clear her head a bit. "I just don't understand why he didn't even seem to care that it was upsetting me."
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"It was... odd. Kind of wrong feeling, but I didn't want to really pick at it too much. I figured it'd just get worse."
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