#owlem

The grechures

A irritated sigh escapes the skinwalker as he scratches absentmindedly at his beard and purses his lips up slightly in thought. Where the hell had he put the shotgun? Canting his head to the side a bit, the hunters eyes quickly darted around the room searchingly while he wracked his brain for an answer. Swiftly a recollection of the side of his foot having hit something cold and metal below the bed last night when him and Sal had banged on the floor suddenly appeared in his mind. Eyebrows furrowing curiously, the behemoth of a man gingerly lumbered his over to the bed until bending down and looking underneath. Grinning triumphantly when he spotted the weapon, he’d let out a huff and reached for it, eventually getting the pesky weapon out from where it was. Placing it inside the duffel bag, the blond then headed to where Sal was downstairs next, immediately giving their ass a loving slap once he’d spotted him. “You ready baby? Remember what we agreed on. Stick close to me, alright?” Of course, Owen was still utterly hesitant about letting his lover come on a hunt with him. However, the fight that would come with refusing probably wasn't worth it, plus it’s not like Sal wasn't trained to protect himself anyways. Still, he didn't like it. Nor would he ever, but it was just something he had to live with.