hell is murky.

nimble fingers run across the glass of the song titles as her lips come to a purse. a low hum comes to her lips as she trying to decided exactly what she wants to play. chestnut hues come to  to land on the man. a whisper of a  smile crosses her features. turning  her body slightly, she leans against  the jukebox before calling out.

"hey, winchester.          what do y’think about t’play ?         some REO or some styx ? “

    familiar face provides ample relief as he steps into homey bar,     slipping tattered coat off broadened shoulders & over bar stool as he takes     place by her side, peering over trusses of blonde hair at decidedly ancient machine.

   ' ----- once or twice. '

if sam allowed himself even the slightest twinge of vexation anytime  an unwarranted comment arose itself about HEIGHT, he'd have lost it--  so he gives sheepish smile, scuffing worn sneaker along gravel as he rises to meet stranger's eyes.

Buffy The Vampire Slayer x Supernatural Parallels

                                        I HAVEN’T BEEN VERY ACTIVE  LATELY AND I’M TRYING                                         TO  RECTIFY  THAT  BUT,   IN THE  MEANTIME,   HAVE A                                         GIVEAWAY    TO       MAKE    UP    FOR    MY    ABSENCE 

                                                  •  RULES   •

                                                  MUST     BE     FOLLOWING     ME                                                                     LIKES     &      REBLOGS    COUNT                                                       MUST  BE   A    ROLEPLAY  BLOG                                                                        ENDS   28/2/2015  AT  6PM  AEST                                                              THREE WINNERS - CUSTOM THEME

                                             •   EXAMPLES   •

                                                 XX - XX - XX - XX 

                               ’ take it. i need more’n just a drink anyway. ’

     and dean grabs the whole bottle to tip it against his lips,     gulping        down several shots’ worth of the searing whiskey before relinquishing       it                                           to sam’s                                     discretion.

              and grip tightens until battered knuckles turn a ghastly white.      the rest of aged liquor is tossed into the back of his throat--      relishing in the burn that rises & spreads throughout myriad of veins.

              ( but maybe that aching sensation wasn't just whiskey. )

                     ' ------ she found some taste, did she ?? '

 there's ice coating every layer of his tone,  cooling any semblance of a joke in it's tracks.

          ' i don't blame her for running.             ----- i'd do the same. '