(no subject)

[familybadass]

WHO: Dean Winchester and Caroline Forbes
WHAT: BACKDATED arrival and meeting
WHEN: Week 2, early morning
WARNINGS: TBD Dean + Caroline= ???

Dean's eyes opened slowly, almost as if he came off a really good dream and didn't want to wake up. His eyes eventually focus... he wishes they hadn't when his eyes focus on the fork paused halfway to his mouth. Dean flung the fork away from him as fast as he could, not realizing that someone was sitting across from him.

"Who the hell are you?"

Okay, even Dean could admit that sentence was pretty classless, even by his standards and he was suddenly glad that Sam wasn't there to hear it. Dammit, where is Sam? He looked at the woman across from him.

"Sorry."

Comments

[overarching]

As Caroline came to, it was clear from the smells and air of the room that she'd never been there before. Worse, she hadn't chosen to go there. Her grip tightened around the fork before abruptly loosening, causing it to clatter to the table, all in time for the stranger there with her to, well, be just as abrupt.

Her eyes remained locked and hot on him, lips thin, silk of the light blue gown someone had clearly managed to get her into creasing as she started to stand. The apology came just as she realized her arm felt heavy, and she muttered an incomplete curse at it, both hands moving to the table's edge, gripping it as she stood, shoving the chair back away from her.

"Me? Caroline. Your turn," she said with vitriol, upset, annoyed, and on edge. Being accusatory back and forth wouldn't be constructive. Swallowing, her head gave a shake, and her tone softened. "Look -- you're not acting like you know how you're here either, and I don't recognize you at all," her eyes flicked to the device lodged in his arm, too, silently acknowledging the similarity between their circumstance, "so that can only mean...that you're not real, or someone's messing with people from two different places, which is so ridiculous I can't even deal." Her eyes gave a roll.

She fully stood, heels clicking on the floor. Her hands moved up to rub fingertips against her forehead, shielding her face for a moment as she gave a distraught, irritated sound, circling aimlessly for a second. Then, in the truest of daring, blunt moments, her face revealed once more, she spat up toward the ceiling, "Whoever's doing this can stop, because I'm not going to play whatever game you've cooked up. I don't care how powerful you are." Clearly, it could be a witch's, or similar entity's, spell?

She said all of this so back to back that, given the man likely wanted to interject, it wasn't until she got all that out that she'd finally look over to really listen to him. She had priorities at home to get to, okay? This was absurd, and she had no time for shenanigans.