I don't get him. We're working and he's still moonlighting--there's a temp position open: Town Drunk. Whiskey sours. Kind of girly, but they're Darla's special, and I know he's mostly drinking them for her. (It's working. She loves him.)
Still. I could be the shifter for all he knows. It's stupid, to be like that. We're working.
I approach.
He regards me sloppily--oh, great--but he slaps me on the shoulder, like one of the guys. His touch is cold; there are new rings on his fingers.
Silver. And I see; he is armed to the teeth with silver.
"Tracy, do us a solid, take a picture of us?" He lurches closer to Darla, or Darla's rack, and hands me his phone. Garbles something about sending it to his brother, which I know is a lie.
Darla beams at me, pixelated. Her eyes pearl over.
Of course they do.
I snap, hand the phone back. Shift's over; Dean and Darla are "gettin' someplace private" now. Dean pockets the phone. When he draws his hand back out, he has a knife. Darla doesn't see it.
Darla's not long for this world.
I don't follow.
I stay, and drink the rest of Dean's whiskey sour.
I should leave.
I'm shaking.
I should leave.
When Dean sees that picture, he'll know I'm gone for good. Because Darla's eyes, yeah--they're pearls. She's the shifter. Fine.
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branchandroot
Dean on a hunt with Tracy Bell. Post 9x11.
Date: 2014-02-03 07:18 pm (UTC)Still. I could be the shifter for all he knows. It's stupid, to be like that. We're working.
I approach.
He regards me sloppily--oh, great--but he slaps me on the shoulder, like one of the guys. His touch is cold; there are new rings on his fingers.
Silver. And I see; he is armed to the teeth with silver.
"Tracy, do us a solid, take a picture of us?" He lurches closer to Darla, or Darla's rack, and hands me his phone. Garbles something about sending it to his brother, which I know is a lie.
Darla beams at me, pixelated. Her eyes pearl over.
Of course they do.
I snap, hand the phone back. Shift's over; Dean and Darla are "gettin' someplace private" now. Dean pockets the phone. When he draws his hand back out, he has a knife. Darla doesn't see it.
Darla's not long for this world.
I don't follow.
I stay, and drink the rest of Dean's whiskey sour.
I should leave.
I'm shaking.
I should leave.
When Dean sees that picture, he'll know I'm gone for good. Because Darla's eyes, yeah--they're pearls. She's the shifter. Fine.
But Dean's pooled black.