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( she knows a thing or two about needing to be on the run, or just on the move when it comes to chasing down the things that go bump-and-sometimes-crash in the night; she and her brother spend more time on the road than they do in even the sorry excuses for motel rooms along the way, him behind the wheel and her looking up local news as a means to pass the time and the miles, hopefully with enough paranormal pings that they find themselves stopping for a job. and a shower. and a meal that hasn't been pre-microwaved.
( or in her case, consisting of wilted lettuce and sad, soggy croutons. )
they've been driving all night, headed toward the wind of something possibly going down in a tiny little town in california, which means passing through nevada and not making a stop in las vegas, much to dean's dismay and subsequent whining. you're no fun, sammy, he says with a huff and she just rolls her eyes and goes back to her phone, scrolling through news articles and marking some to read for later, just for the hell of it.
she thinks she's plenty fun. it's just that they happen to have a difference of opinion on what counts as fun.
there's a yawn to be fought as she pushes the door open and dean pushes past her in his haste to get to the bathroom ( been holdin' it for the last twenty miles, he offers, like she needed to know or asked in the first place ) and she barely keeps from rolling her eyes as she chooses a booth near where the woman and her hat are currently sitting, smiling pleasantly up at the server that comes over and asks if she can start her off with some coffee, or maybe one of their signature waffles?
coffee first, food later. once dean has decided whether he wants a heart attack by way of carbs or fried meats, but at least it leaves a chance for sam to peer back over at the woman and her hat, briefly meeting her gaze and looking away just as quickly.
morning, sunshine. )
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