strangetrip | [EP] What a nice surprise

Entry tags:

[EP] What a nice surprise

"Eugene Thompson," repeated the Innkeeper, when Sam finally broke down and stopped searching for the wheelchair guy to ask. "One moment, please. Do you need any--"

"No. I have plenty of towels." What the heck was it with the towels, anyway? Sam shifted his weight to his other foot and tried not to screw up his face too much. The guy was just doing his job. Even if that was literally all he could do. "Um, but thanks."

"You're welcome." The Innkeeper did something that was probably smile, but Sam couldn't have described it, or his face for the life of him. "Ah, yes." He tapped a finger against the rounded black monitor screen that was as almost as old as Sam. "Mr. Thompson has checked out."

"Huh?" Sam's felt the surprise overtake his face and he had to work hard to plant his hands at the edge of the counter instead of reaching across to grab the guy by the collar. "I thought you said we couldn't leave."

"That is correct."

"But Flash--"

"Flash Thompson has checked out."

"How does that even make--" Never mind. The lyrics of Hotel California came to him. "So, you're saying he's dead and I should look for his ghost?"

"I have no record of His Ghost."

Sam rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "Okay, yeah. Thanks."

After he'd stalked away from the front desk, Sam dropped into one of the round red leather booths in the Copper Cafe and pulled out his cell...which was absolutely fucking useless and he still forgot half the time. "Great. The Innkeeper's useless. Flash has 'checked out'. And I can't text anyone to tell them about it."

Oh yeah. Life in the days before instantaneous communication sucked. And blew.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Lindsey'd seen the guy in the wheelchair, but hadn't had any reason to talk to him. He wondered how long it would've been before he noticed the guy was missing. "That doesn't bode well for Mr. Thompson." Or the rest of them. They remembered Thompson, though, and he wasn't sure they would if this was one of the Senior Partners holding dimensions.

Didn't mean it wasn't someone else's, though.

"You and your brother gonna check it out, then?" They knew something about the world most people were oblivious to, Lindsey was still figuring out what and how much. But the fact Winchester was already asking the innkeeper about Thompson said he wasn't the type to let this sort of thing slide.

Well, he'd paid attention, more than most people. Not that many people seemed to have connected "banish ghosts recreationally" with "professional investigators." He and Dean had agreed it wasn't much use trying to keep it secret. They just kept the goriest parts away from the civilians.

Somehow, he didn't think this guy was one of them.

"I was checking it out. Hit a dead end. I'm taking a break to rethink."

Winchester's words didn't have the inflection or timing cues to suggest an intentional pun, so Lindsey didn't voice the question of if it was too soon for a dead end, but privately it amused him. "Better you than me. Mysterious disappearances aren't my kind of thing, leaving off my disappearance from anywhere but here, that is."

Belatedly, Sam heard his own unintentional pun and half-smiled sheepishly. "Yeah, I guessed that about you," he said, not judgmental but appraising. Saying MacDonald didn't seem to be a people person was like saying the ocean didn't seem to be a lake. "What is your kind of thing?"

Lindsey shrugged one shoulder. Vengeance. Words used well. Being better than others. "This and that. Music, when I've got the opportunity. When you spend most of your time getting by, there's not a lot left for developing interests."

Getting by looked true, but something about the guy said there was more to him than that. Sam looked at him just long enough to let his skepticism be known and then nodded. "And you read. What kind of music?"

Lindsey met the look evenly. "I did say 'this and that,'" he pointed out, lifting his book slightly, his place marked with a finger between the pages.

"I mostly play country," probably wouldn't come as much of a surprise. "But I listen to lots of music as long as it's good." For reasons he didn't plan to discuss, he had a knee-jerk dislike for hymns and most gospel music, but Lindsey enjoyed and could talk as knowledgeably about opera or nineteenth century piano composers, for example, as he could Johnny Cash or Merle Haggard.

"Yeah, you did." But someone who considered reading 'this and that' probably didn't get so deep in his book he didn't look up for anything. Or maybe he was projecting. Sam shrugged. "I don't know much about country music. What do you consider good music?"

"I know it when I hear it?" Lindsey shrugged. "Hey, I don't know, man. It's one of those things. There's objectively bad music, but after that, it depends on the person, their mood and shit. Can't say I've been a big fan of The Eagles lately, you know?"

Sam chuckled at the Eagles reference, and because he had nothing better to do at the moment than play word games, tossed back, "Yeah, not feeling Talking Heads or Matchbox 20 much, either."

Not just similar world then, but roughly the same time period, if they could share all three of those musical references. And relatively quick on word play, although Hotel California had probably been on the minds of most who'd heard it before, now they were all stuck here. Definitely the kind of guy worth keeping an eye on.

"What about you? Other than investigating things most of us didn't have cause to think about 'fore comin' here, what's your thing?"

"Investigating things most of us didn't have cause to think about," Sam replied, a hint of bitterness in it. "Didn't leave much time for anything else. I guess... law school was gonna be my thing, but the investigating got in the way."

Used to be hard to admit that, one of those things he held close, but it had stopped mattering after Azazel. Mostly.

Lindsey didn't know the guy at all enough to say how well he would've done in law school, or in practice, although since he said 'law school' and not 'the law,' Lindsey was inferring he'd been in undergrad when the investigating got in the way.

"Law school, huh? I worked in the mail room of a law firm for awhile, a few years back. To a one, those lawyers were self-involved, egotistical assholes, some of 'em flat out evil. The kind that prove all the jokes true. But I guess somebody's gotta do it."

Sam shrugged and bit back the wave of irritation that set his tongue rolling behind his teeth. "Investigating things most people don't know about means learning about a lot of people not being as guilty as they look, and some being a lot guiltier. The law doesn't deal with supernatural shit, so sometimes the people who do--" Like his brother and him. "Need lawyers."

He wasn't sure what kind of law he'd planned to practice, because being normal had a strong appeal. Back then it had. Now, he figured there were other, better reasons for him to be a lawyer...not that he expected it would ever happen.

"So that coulda been you, huh? Lawyer to the weirdos and monsters and things that go bump in the night." Kindred spirit? Like minds? Too soon to tell, but everything he learned made Lindsey determined to learn more. If Winchester was any good, Wolfram & Hart would've grabbed him up in a heartbeat. How he'd have done there, that was a different question.

"D'you get around to takin' the, uh, the LSAT things?"

Sam had already suspected that McDonald wasn't on the level. He couldn't put a finger on it, exactly; he just knew the guy was more than he appeared. And the way he asked, something about the "uh" seemed forced, like he wouldn't normally say it. Yeah, people had lots of reasons to hide who they were, but it made Sam a little cagey. Either that or he wasn't as okay with talking about not going to law school as he thought.

"Yeah. I did," he answered. "Why?"

Lindsey laughed. "Yeah, that was more ham-fisted than I usually like to be." He shrugged, meeting and holding Winchester's eye. "Why? Making conversation. Curious how you did compared to me."

Well, at least he knew he'd pushed it too far for believability. And lawyer made a lot of sense with McDonald's ability to tell a story.

Sam shrugged and said, "Doesn't mean much unless we took the same test, but I got a 174."

"Considering you'd have to be from the same version of Earth or damn close to, and have taken it in June '93, probably not all that likely, but 174's in the ballpark." And wasn't out of line with what Lindsey had noticed about him so far – one more reason for Lindsey to keep an eye on Winchester, who was probably even more likely to reciprocate now than before.

"Sounds like you could've made one hell of a law student, if things hadn't gotten in the way."

The competitive side of Sam wanted to know what McDonald had scored, but the itch and burn in his hands and gut said it was time to be somewhere else.

"Yeah," he said as he stood up. "Sounds like you probably were a hell of a lawyer."

"Yeah, probably was. Self-involved, egotistical asshole who proved all the jokes true. Least I knew it, which was better than some I worked with." And since Lindsey hadn't changed all that much in some ways since he left W&H, he went back to his book.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[EP] What a nice surprise

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject