righteouswoman | RP for safenotnormal

RP for safenotnormal

Mystic, Connecticut: six boats were found floating crew-less into Mystic Seaport, the only remains of their passengers several streaks of blood and as-yet unidentified dog hairs. The resulting WTF-ing of the media reached one Dianne and Sam Winchesters, prompting a hasty trip to New England.

And the procurement of shorts. Goddamn humidity levels.

Upon driving into Mystic, Dianne came to a few conclusions: 1, it's high-class and clean; 2, it probably costs more money than she's ever seen in her life to live here; and 3, it's boring as hell.

"So what d'you think, Sammy: they got motels here, or are we gonna have to spring for a bed and breakfast?"

With their luck, it'd probably be haunted.

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"Spring?" Sam repeats, tearing his studious look away from the boats to quirk a smirk at his sister.

"You mean actually pay for with money?"

"Nah," she says, producing yet another of her fake credit cards from a purse (shut up, it's a defensive weapon). "We got us a Sugar Daddy, Sammy."

You have to feel sorry for Jeff Buckley, whoever he is.

You also gotta feel sorry for that seagull she just almost ran over. Seaside towns may look pretty, but Goddamn if they don't have a lot of seagulls running. Downright unsanitary. Or something.

He knew it. Sam shakes his head in despair at her and turns his gaze back to the road.

"Yeah well, could we try and not kill too much of the local wildlife while we're here?"

"The way I see it," she chatters cheerfully, "I'm doing this town a favor. How many seagulls does it need, anyway?"

Apparently not many.

And if they're too stupid to get out of her way, well, that's one less bird to shit on her car.

"You wanna find some place to sleep or check out the Seaport first?"

She gave him a choice! She <3s her brother.

She really does, doesn't she.

"Somewhere to shower, first."

He's been in the Impala too long already. "Then we can go check it out."

Or maybe she was just hoping to execute that sharp right turn into a Holiday Inn. Any cases of passenger whiplash are clearly his own fault.

Really.

>>

"Ow!"

That's the sound Sams make when Diannes pull sharp right turns without warning. There's not a lot of room for people Sam's size in here, anyway.

"Jeez, Di, you could have warned me!"

"I did warn you."

Can you see the halo, Sam?

"I asked you if you wanted to find someplace to sleep."

As she unbuckles her seatbelt, she makes a helpful gesture towards the building. Ta-da!, it says. Someplace to sleep!

Only a little brother could concentrate that much bitter resentment into a smile. Sam says nothing, but unbuckles his seatbelt and gets out of the car, looking over the Holiday Inn.

It could be worse.

They check into the hotel as Mr. and Mrs. Sylvester from Wyomington, Ohio (which may or may not exist, but it was worth it to see the confusion at the check-in desk). The Honeymoon Suite, seeing as how that was the only thing that wasn't booked. Maybe gruesome boating debacles stimulate business, who knows? But it's amazing how many times you can fit nauseating endearments like darling and cookie into a conversation if you really try.

Ahem.

Upon seeing the room: "There better be a jacuzzi or something."

Sam can't stop staring at the size of the bed. That's not even queen.

"The honeymoon suite and there's not even a couch?"

"Yeah, where's the representation for the honeymooning couple that wants to get a head start on their fighting?"

Woe, the disenfranchised youth of America. ._.

"Think your giant-ass self will even fit on that thing?"

Cause she knows who's sleeping on the floor if they have a crisis of space management.

"Sure it will."

Sam even stakes his claim by throwing his duffel bag down onto one side of the bed.

"I'm first in the shower."

"I'm suing for divorce if you use all the hot water."

Hey, she can just sit on the other side of the bed and see what's on tv. And possibly plot possible revenge if he does use all the hot water.

"I use less than you."

Sam once tried to spend as much time as Dianne in the shower. He got bored and went all wrinkly.

Anyway, he doesn't use all the hot water, but he does use a lot, and steam billows out behind him when he finally emerges, towel clad.

Hey, it's not her fault. Her hair takes longer to wash!

When he does emerge from the shower, the tv is hurriedly switched off. It was not playing Oprah, and given that it defaults to the start-up menu, Sam can't prove anything.

"Dude. How'd you breathe in there?"

"I have gills," Sam tells her, deadpan.

"Nothing on the TV?"

"They're running some kinda lame-ass pograms marathon."

Absent-mindedly digging through her bag for Showering Stuff.

Which means that as soon as Dianne's gone for her shower, Sam's going to turn the TV back on and look for Oprah.

He rummages through his own bag for underwear and deoderant, and collapses in the room's chair.

"Nothing on the local news about our Mary Celestes?"

Through the closed door: "It's all puppies and charities there, Dude."

...At least, the one-and-a-half minute she watched before going to Oprah.

Sam flips it on anyway, with the hand that's not busy pulling his underwear on.

It'll fill the time before the water starts and he can watch Oprah.

"You didn't feel the urge to donate?"

"I considered sending them one of your hoodies, but then I realised they'd probably send 'em right back."

And lo, the water starts!

Oprah time!

"What about all those jeans you won't admit are too tight?"

"Sorry, can't hear you!"

(None of her jeans are too tight, dammit!)

That's good. It means he can pull on a pair of his own pants and watch Oprah in peace.

RP for safenotnormal

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