[This human is too short to be his brother - we're talking a good 5 inches shorter at the very least, and far less malnourished. But he's injured. The sluggish, dim-eyed manner in which he climbs to his feet says as much, and he continues to cradle his ribcage.
There's a hiss of breath, either from anger or pain. Sanji starts marching for Sam's abandoned supplies]
Damned, shitty cannibal got your brother.
[A curt reply. Sanji knows who this is. Normally he'd greet the brother of a close friend with more respect, but they doesn't have time for pleasantries, and Sanji can barely hear himself speaking over the weight of his stupid failure.
Something went wrong. He should've -- damn it, he's not so out of practice that he couldn't have parried that blow. And Sam had never given any indication that Wendigos were that powerful. Bastards, sure, and quick as lightning, but Sanji deals with shit like that on the regular. What the hell happened.
He's forgotten Dean. Probably not gaining any points in his favor, but Sanji continues to hiss lightly through his teeth as he bends down and retrieves the still cooling gun. The weight is heavy and unwelcome in his hand, but not unfamiliar; he's used one before. He even considers himself a good shot in a pinch.
Though if it's anything like what just happened--]
They headed around the bend of this tunnel. [More like the Wendigo dragged Sam like a shitty carcass, he recalls with bitter concern. Dean probably knows it, too. Sanji glances behind his shoulder, to assess how many shades of pissed Mr. Big Brother is. From what Sanji remembers of Sam's guarded retellings, Dean shares a lot of qualities with the chef.
Which means they might start a forest fire in a second. Sanji gets ready to step back in case a (well-deserved) swing comes.]
no subject
There's a hiss of breath, either from anger or pain. Sanji starts marching for Sam's abandoned supplies]
Damned, shitty cannibal got your brother.
[A curt reply. Sanji knows who this is. Normally he'd greet the brother of a close friend with more respect, but they doesn't have time for pleasantries, and Sanji can barely hear himself speaking over the weight of his stupid failure.
Something went wrong. He should've -- damn it, he's not so out of practice that he couldn't have parried that blow. And Sam had never given any indication that Wendigos were that powerful. Bastards, sure, and quick as lightning, but Sanji deals with shit like that on the regular. What the hell happened.
He's forgotten Dean. Probably not gaining any points in his favor, but Sanji continues to hiss lightly through his teeth as he bends down and retrieves the still cooling gun. The weight is heavy and unwelcome in his hand, but not unfamiliar; he's used one before. He even considers himself a good shot in a pinch.
Though if it's anything like what just happened--]
They headed around the bend of this tunnel. [More like the Wendigo dragged Sam like a shitty carcass, he recalls with bitter concern. Dean probably knows it, too. Sanji glances behind his shoulder, to assess how many shades of pissed Mr. Big Brother is. From what Sanji remembers of Sam's guarded retellings, Dean shares a lot of qualities with the chef.
Which means they might start a forest fire in a second. Sanji gets ready to step back in case a (well-deserved) swing comes.]