(no subject)

[salver]

He's had time to think and consider his approach.

Especially once he plugged the card into his laptop, after the alarm went off letting him know that the land line was dead.

All the beer's down cellar, in the room. He's packing -- a gun, an extra clip, a couple of knives, some charms (never hurts), a ziploc bag of salt, some sterno, matches, and a small flask.

And now he's sitting peacefully in front of his computer, playing a few rounds of Bejeweled.

Comments

[salver]

Well.

Here goes nothing.

He comes back into the room, hands spread. "Looks like the fridge in here's out of beer -- "

One more thing he'd tested.

There's a closet in the study that for some ungodly reason has stayed empty. He'd checked it earlier -- and smiled.

He opens the door to the closet, and gives Sam a grin. "But I hear there's a couple in here."

Beyond the door: sounds of glasses clinking, and low conversation.

[mynamesnotmeg]

Something flickers in his expression.

Milliways.

This could be a real downer, especially if any of the busybody weak-sister milktoast do-gooders from last time are running around and sticking their noses into things.

On the other hand, he doesn't want the old man to get suspicious, and come to think of it, it might not be a bad idea to get him out of his rathole.

Might just make it all that much sweeter to do it there, watching him realize how thoroughly he'd been tricked and that he'd never, never, be coming home to his messy little nest.

Sam smiles.

"Bet they've even got a lot better stuff than what you usually keep on hand, too," he quips.

[salver]

Mildly, as he holds the door open: "Sam, if you knock Coors I won't buy."

[mynamesnotmeg]

"Hey, if you're buying..."

Sam grins at him, and ducks through the door.