"This is great, we have a damn personal bank account now. I think we're set." Sawyer leaned back in his chair, snagging the loose sole of his shoe on the leg of the table to keep him upright, putting two hands on the back of his head and letting out a contented smile. His demeanor was smug, but the grin said otherwise... he was glad to have his family back after all this time, glad to have a sense of direction once again. He was reveling in the familiarity of the camaraderie that he felt between the four. Winchester wasn't there, but the old bastard was gone for good... he was a freeloader, a mercenary, regardless. His heart belonged with new circumstances and different forms of danger. He couldn't blame the man; it was his calling. Out of his pocket slipped a stainless steel flask. Despite the shabby, pestilent, worn and sad state of his clothing, the flask was beautiful, and without a dent or scratch on its rectangular shape. With the front of his thumb he popped open the cap and let the warm liquor numb his stomach and diffuse into his bloodstream, warming his body. The grin only widened.