[text] I found a city pretty much taken over by at least two packs of werewolves.
[text] Yeah, kind of glad to be away from that mess. Though I need to get back- I already let someone down by leaving.
[text]You can’t please or take care of everone at all times, Sam. You’re only one person.
A smirk slid over his lips, blue eyes bright in the dim light of the bar. His fingers traced the edge of his glass before he brought it to his lips, downing the rest of the whiskey. “You’re a new face,” he commented, sliding a clean glass onto a coaster. “Can I get you anything?”
[text] I was in California working a case, came back home to take care of something.
[text] The tower, I meant. In New York.
[text] Oh ew. I always hated cali. Granted…haven’t been there since the gold rush. [text] Glad to be back in NYC?
[text]That don’t sound all that reassuring, Sam.
[text] You know me well enough to know you don’t go to a Winchester to be reassured. I could lie?
[text]Well that’s true. [text]Any fun new cases?
"I’ve got stuff to do," Suriel muttered without paying much attention to the person who’d come up behind him as he rummaged through some of his supplies. "So unless it’s important, find someone else to bug."
The blonde faltered, smile slipping from her lips almost instantly. She wasn’t accustomed to anyone snapping at her, especially with how sheltered she was. “S-sorry,” she stammered, head hung low.