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[strongeralone]

Status report: what the hell happened here in the last month? Casualties? What's the extent of the damage? Any retaliation missions planned?

[someone's definitely ready to go out and kick some UE butt for bombing his children. Oh and you other people.]

Missions. How many of you were sent on them, what were they, and with how many people?

[screened AWAY from the Winchester boys]

Is there a sketch artist on this network?

[screened to Nicki Meg]

Alive? Did he do anything?

Comments

[implying]

You misunderstand me, my friend. On two counts! That was an attempt to trade actual conversation for information, on one, and two, this lesson is really only practical in person.

[strongeralone]

So you can't teach me through these.

[And now he's ticked but forces himself to swallow it down]

Same bar, an hour.

[implying]

I'll be there.

action;

[strongeralone]

[He arrives ten minutes early and takes the same seat overlooking the door. He orders a beer while he waits; after the day he had he really needs one. In fact, he could use something a lot stronger but he'll have that once this mess is done. For now, he has to stay strong.]

[implying]

[ He's still in the mask, and he's... more or less on time. So really, the only difference is that this time as he strolls in, he knows who he's looking for, and he does it with a mostly-covered limp. He heads over with a smile already in place, sliding into a seat across from him. ]

Hello again, Eric!

[strongeralone]

[He looks up from his glass and nods, not even bothering with a welcome. Instead, he pulls out his tablet and lays it on the table between them.]

So how's it work.

[implying]

[ He doesn't even glance down at it, preferring to lean his elbows on the table and his chin in his hands. ]

So then, what is "wild west"?

[strongeralone]

A place that should be left for the movies. Are you gonna teach me or what?

[implying]

I am, yes! Are you going to give me actual conversation for it?

[strongeralone]

[He sighs through gritted teeth. He's not in the mood for this, he's had the worst day of his life, and he's not sure he's including the torments of hell in this which means he might be. Fighting with Dean...it eats away at him.]

You get 5 minutes of chit chat. Get on with it. [Close your eyes and think of killing Castiel.]

[implying]

[ Such a toothy smile under this mask, he's ever so pleased to continue to be useful and necessary to this guy. It's just way too much fun. ]

If you won't tell me properly about this wild west, at least tell me how it was. What did you do?

[strongeralone]

Kill a man.

[And he's bothered by how badly it doesn't bother him. He hasn't killed a human being who wasn't possessed since Vietnam. But he's killed so many, sacrificed so many and so much for so long for such a long while that he's just numb about it. If killing someone will get his boys home, he'll do. He won't think twice about it.]

[implying]

Ah. [ The smile fades. ] Well, I suppose that is what they like us to do, around here... Who was it?

[strongeralone]

Doesn't matter. [There's no one he wouldn't kill without second thought for his boys. Aka mun has no idea.] He's nothing but ashes now.

[implying]

Pleasant.

[ ugh, murder. can they talk about something else?? ]

Well, I hope you enjoyed the timeframe, at least.

[strongeralone]

Dust, sand and horse shit as far as the eye can see. It's been a real vacation.

[Oh you thought they'd be a pleasant five minutes?]

[implying]

Quite the place to volunteer to be. [ A pause, and his head cocks slightly. ] You did volunteer?

[strongeralone]

[Gritted teeth are all the answer he'll get for that.

So maybe he needed to blow off some steam. Maybe he needed to kill something, so he could have nightmares about something other than hell.

So what.]

[implying]

[ ...Uh huh. This conversation is starting to feel awkward, even for him. He sits back, arms folding across his chest. ]

I believe you're misunderstanding the terms of this agreement, my friend.

[strongeralone]

You're misunderstanding a hella lot more than that if you think we're friends.

[implying]

[ sir you are the biggest spoilsport ever. He flaps a hand dismissively. ]

Then consider it nothing but a turn of phrase. My point stands.

[strongeralone]

If it's inane conversation you want, pick someone else. You can help me, or you can get the hell outta my way.

[Which would put him in his way, as a viable target.]

[implying]

[ He considers that, then sits back with a sigh. ]

Perhaps I ought to think of something else that you might do for me in return, then.

[strongeralone]

[He raises an eyebrow, as if saying be very very careful with where you take this. He's been itching to punch someone for a long time.]

[implying]

[ The mask hides his eyeroll, but it makes it across well enough in his tone of voice. ]

Oh, come, don't give me that look. [ and with a small grin: ] I hope that isn't a dirty mind you're hiding in there!