[ he swallows, struggling a moment to get his throat to work. strange sensation, to have his own muscles fail him— his throat sore and sour and thick at the same time.
but when dean pulls back and offers his coat he takes it gratefully, pulling it around himself and fastening the front closed with shaky hands. hard to say if that's low blood sugar or an effect of the chill. ]
Thank you. We— we need to find my angel blade. And the medallion. I don't think they're replaceable.
no subject
but when dean pulls back and offers his coat he takes it gratefully, pulling it around himself and fastening the front closed with shaky hands. hard to say if that's low blood sugar or an effect of the chill. ]
Thank you. We— we need to find my angel blade. And the medallion. I don't think they're replaceable.