The girl's head gets thrown back, and what's a little too tentacular, a little too alive, to be plain old black smoke geysers out of her mouth in a straight-up column, before hitting the ceiling (and the Key of Solomon on it) and spreading through the air before dissipating.
It's not pretty.
The girl's head drops, and -- as Bobby figured -- something begins to gather on her lips. Something dark -- but dark red.
As he figured.
Dean wants to call the shots? Dean can call the fucking shots. Rest of it's cleanup from here, if there's anything to do for her.
no subject
The girl's head gets thrown back, and what's a little too tentacular, a little too alive, to be plain old black smoke geysers out of her mouth in a straight-up column, before hitting the ceiling (and the Key of Solomon on it) and spreading through the air before dissipating.
It's not pretty.
The girl's head drops, and -- as Bobby figured -- something begins to gather on her lips. Something dark -- but dark red.
As he figured.
Dean wants to call the shots? Dean can call the fucking shots. Rest of it's cleanup from here, if there's anything to do for her.
Damned waste.