[Connor hears the sounds now, too. Rustling. He’s heard all sorts of things while sitting in his own motel room: yelling. Running. Screeching. All manner of oddity.
But most of the people staying here seem to be newcomers to Panorama, or similarly without money. Without anything worth stealing. Connor himself has clothes. His car.]
Stay behind me. [The words ring familiar: said, in part, to help keep Hank alive. Connor hands Castiel the slug container, not even bothering to wipe the slime off his hands this time.
The door is open, as they left it. But now there is a man inside: hunched over, rifling through the nightstand. Pulling back the bedsheets. Swearing a variety of expletives when he, predictably, finds nothing.
Mid-thirties, perhaps. Unshaven. Wearing a shabby leather coat.]
This isn’t your room. [Obviously the man is looting, but still: Connor gives him a chance to say something.]
it was bootleg Gav who knocked earlier but got distracted by a pinecone /s
[Connor hears the sounds now, too. Rustling. He’s heard all sorts of things while sitting in his own motel room: yelling. Running. Screeching. All manner of oddity.
But most of the people staying here seem to be newcomers to Panorama, or similarly without money. Without anything worth stealing. Connor himself has clothes. His car.]
Stay behind me. [The words ring familiar: said, in part, to help keep Hank alive. Connor hands Castiel the slug container, not even bothering to wipe the slime off his hands this time.
The door is open, as they left it. But now there is a man inside: hunched over, rifling through the nightstand. Pulling back the bedsheets. Swearing a variety of expletives when he, predictably, finds nothing.
Mid-thirties, perhaps. Unshaven. Wearing a shabby leather coat.]
This isn’t your room. [Obviously the man is looting, but still: Connor gives him a chance to say something.]