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originally posted in:The New Dojo
1/1/2018 2:42:29 AM
1
“Yeah, yeah. Don’t get too chummy, Daryl.”
Winchester did this quite often. When he felt that people were getting too friendly with him, he’d call them by the wrong name to throw them off at his faux sense of not really caring for them. But he did care for his crew. ‘Course, he’d never say it aloud.
“So what’s the plan? Where do I need to be and when?”
Winchester rose and plucked the pencil from the man’s eye socket. A sickening squish acquainted the removal of the improvised weapon. Somehow it wasn’t splintered. He tore a sheet of paper from a clipboard and sat down again.
English
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“Well... haven’t figured that out yet.” Drake scratched his head with his prosthetic hand, unbeknownst to Winchester. He was making a steady approach to the landing site Alpha had marked out for him, and his nerves were rising once more. “If I don’t get shot in a minute, I’ll give you some better instructions, fish up the coordinates of the Arrowhead, [i]*’cause they gotta be lyin’ around here somewhere.*[/i]” He looked back, and idly rummaged through a compartment in the back of the cockpit. He trailed off at the end, preoccupied with his redundant task—Drake was making busywork because his nerves were killing him, and that probably wasn’t a good sign. “.‘Til then... I dunno, pray for me, do some oriental witchcraft, I dunno.”
-
Winchester scoffed. “Alright, dude. Don’t get yourself killed, aight? Lie your way out. It’s what you’re good at.” Winchester grinned and chucked his note-taking materials across the room since he had no need for them now. “Till next time. Imma go get some dough for this bounty. See ya.” Winchester hung up the phone and stuffed it in the inside pocket of his leather jacket. Picking up his sundry weapons, he exited the post office with a kick through the front door. He began to walk down damp and moist streets after midnight when no one was around. He whistled a jaunty tune, realizing that pretty soon he would make his homecoming.
