[Sam flinches — he can't help it, not with how he's been with angels in the past. There's something about two archangels hatebanging you, one after wearing you to prom, that really messes you up like that. It doesn't help that his good friend Castiel had used that same sort of innocent gesture to smash his wall into gravel.
But then the symptoms do alleviate, and he reddens slightly at his obvious discomfort there. What kind of hunter flinches when scrawny angels poke at them? Sam Winchester, right here. He adjusts quickly, not skipping a beat as he flexes one hand opened and closed. He looks down at the scar flashing every so often and tries not to think too much. That was always his problem, thinking too much.]
I — yeah. That'd be great. Whatever works best. I know it's kind of hard to say, with how I am right now.
[y'know. slowly roasting on the inside with holy light, no biggy]
Offline.
But then the symptoms do alleviate, and he reddens slightly at his obvious discomfort there. What kind of hunter flinches when scrawny angels poke at them? Sam Winchester, right here. He adjusts quickly, not skipping a beat as he flexes one hand opened and closed. He looks down at the scar flashing every so often and tries not to think too much. That was always his problem, thinking too much.]
I — yeah. That'd be great. Whatever works best. I know it's kind of hard to say, with how I am right now.
[y'know. slowly roasting on the inside with holy light, no biggy]