[ Everyone is not fine, but when is that ever not the case?
Despite her worries, he's not mad at her. She did what she had to and damn
it all if Dean hasn't screwed up again. If Sam hasn't screwed up
since he's yet to put a stop to all of this. ]
[And she closes the line with that. Half an hour isn't a lot of time, but it's enough to put on copious amounts of makeup. She covers every bruise and every cut and every scar. Even the mole by her eye. She adds red-red-RED lipstick and plenty of eyeliner. Then changes into a pair of jeans (to hide the swell of her knee) and one of Sam's shirts.
Looking in the mirror, she feels almost normal, if not a little...well, LA, really. Plastic and paint. But it'll do.
All that's left is to settle on the couch and hope Sam doesn't suddenly have the urge to go dancing. She puts a pillow on her lap, trying to hide her knee as best she can.]
[ He doesn't respond, letting the line fall flat. He doesn't do much
of anything, really. Only waits until it's the appropriate time to start
walking to her house. Hands loosely in the pockets of his hoodie, Sam only
glances about for a general self of who and what is around him, but he's
not feeling keen to stop any impending threats, because there always is
one. Always.
Sam doesn't knock.. He just let's himself in and sees Fatima on the
couch, looking a little too put together for someone who just went head to
head with Dean Winchester. ]
...
[ It's clear he's scrutinizing, even from a distance. ]
[ He steps closer, eyes scanning her form for any discrepancies. Sam
is quite used to how she holds herself, the coloration of her skin and it's
terribly clear that she's wearing more makeup than normal. He's come to
learn that's her way of hiding herself. His gaze falls to the pillow as he
hovers over her, but doesn't move his hands from his pockets. Looming is
more like it. ]
[It bothers her, being examined like this. It reminds her too much of the way Liam used to look at her, the nights when she snuck out to kill vampires.
Like she did something wrong. Like she knows she did something wrong.
Maybe she did. Maybe breaking Dean's nose was unwarranted. But it's hard to see things that way.]
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no subject
Frankly, she'd rather have Sam mad at her than at Dean. At least then he wouldn't feel resentful? Maybe?]
I broke his nose.
no subject
[ She...broke his nose?
Why does he feel like it might be a bit of retribution considering that's exactly what Dean did to him? ]
I'm guessing he deserved it.
no subject
[Crap. She didn't want to get into this.]
...hit me.
Sam, seriously, everyone is fine.
no subject
[ Everyone is not fine, but when is that ever not the case? Despite her worries, he's not mad at her. She did what she had to and damn it all if Dean hasn't screwed up again. If Sam hasn't screwed up since he's yet to put a stop to all of this. ]
Everyone is fine.
[ He sounds unconvinced, if strained. ]
no subject
Or some other nonsense.
She sighs softly.]
Give me about half an hour. Then come over here.
[She'll prove to him that everyone is fine.]
no subject
[ He should be rushing over there, he knows this. But instead he falls into an uncharacteristic compliance. He sighs through his nose. ]
Fine.
[ Tight-lipped though it may be. ]
no subject
I'll leave the door unlocked.
[And she closes the line with that. Half an hour isn't a lot of time, but it's enough to put on copious amounts of makeup. She covers every bruise and every cut and every scar. Even the mole by her eye. She adds red-red-RED lipstick and plenty of eyeliner. Then changes into a pair of jeans (to hide the swell of her knee) and one of Sam's shirts.
Looking in the mirror, she feels almost normal, if not a little...well, LA, really. Plastic and paint. But it'll do.
All that's left is to settle on the couch and hope Sam doesn't suddenly have the urge to go dancing. She puts a pillow on her lap, trying to hide her knee as best she can.]
no subject
[ He doesn't respond, letting the line fall flat. He doesn't do much of anything, really. Only waits until it's the appropriate time to start walking to her house. Hands loosely in the pockets of his hoodie, Sam only glances about for a general self of who and what is around him, but he's not feeling keen to stop any impending threats, because there always is one. Always.
Sam doesn't knock.. He just let's himself in and sees Fatima on the couch, looking a little too put together for someone who just went head to head with Dean Winchester. ]
...
[ It's clear he's scrutinizing, even from a distance. ]
no subject
Hey.
no subject
[ He steps closer, eyes scanning her form for any discrepancies. Sam is quite used to how she holds herself, the coloration of her skin and it's terribly clear that she's wearing more makeup than normal. He's come to learn that's her way of hiding herself. His gaze falls to the pillow as he hovers over her, but doesn't move his hands from his pockets. Looming is more like it. ]
Hey.
no subject
Like she did something wrong. Like she knows she did something wrong.
Maybe she did. Maybe breaking Dean's nose was unwarranted. But it's hard to see things that way.]
Sit next to me. Let's talk.