there's a soft smirk that takes to her lips when she hears the venom that bites sam's throat, poisoned by the drinks he's polluting his body with, akin with the warmth of her blood that simmers in his belly; they are joined as one. some would find it romantic; she finds it thrilling. there's an arch to her brow, and she waits until the onslaught of sam's timbre simmers down, and she moves to take the vacant spot next to him. "careful, sam," she almost purrs, earthly hues scanning the outline of his wartorn countenance. "if i didn't know any better, sounds like the puppy is capable of hate." she wants to edge him on, wants to see him reach his fullest potential; because it will give her the reward that she so desperately deserve. reaching out, she brushes wisps of chestnut bangs away from sam's forehead, a tender touch in stark contrast to what they have been practicing, exorcising demons through means of sam's untapped abilities. it's to carve out some semblance of sentimental connection therein lies between them, to find a way to have sam not only fixated on her blood, but to her as well. he'll make such a great boy king, she muses to herself. "practice makes perfect, right? let's find the next son'uva bitch to yank a demon out of. okay?"