01: [Voice -> Video] Carry On Wayward Son
Oct. 30th, 2010 02:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dashboardlite[There's an unhappy growling sound, a few switches clicking, and the low buzz of electronics warming up.]
C'mon, you fucker. Jesus, you- Okay. There. God damn it, didn't think I'd have to leave my own message like a bad zombie apocalypse movie.
[The screen flickers and it clears up to show a man's torso before he bends down to squint into the camera. He's ruggedly good-looking, albeit a little angry at present with the set jaw and furrowed brow. He narrows green eyes at the lens and prods it experimentally before shuffling to one side and scraping a chair across the floor to the table, settling on it and propping his feet up before speaking.]
No goddamn clue where I am.
[He groans, rubbing the back of his neck.]
'M in a room, in a house, and Sammy if you get this broadcast you come and find me, you hear? For all I know it's the freakin' trickster again tryin' to screw around with me, and this time I don't wanna die chokin' on a taco or getting a desk dropped on my sexy head.
[The man glares at the camera before digging into his leather jacket, pulling out an IMI Desert Eagle semi-automatic pistol and checking the weight and munitions cartridge. Prying one of the bullets out, he holds it up to the camera briefly.]
See that? Wrought iron.
[Looks rather pleased with himself as he replaces it in its case and reloads the gun.]
If any demons or ghosts come around lookin' for me I'll be ready.
[Quirks a little smile at the gun before tucking it back into his jacket and fingering the amulet around his neck, lost in thought for a moment before mumbling hoarsely.]
...you gotta find me, Sammy. S'not like I had much time left, anyway.
[He reaches over, and there are a few seconds of muffled, bumping noises before he hits the switch and the screen goes black.]
C'mon, you fucker. Jesus, you- Okay. There. God damn it, didn't think I'd have to leave my own message like a bad zombie apocalypse movie.
[The screen flickers and it clears up to show a man's torso before he bends down to squint into the camera. He's ruggedly good-looking, albeit a little angry at present with the set jaw and furrowed brow. He narrows green eyes at the lens and prods it experimentally before shuffling to one side and scraping a chair across the floor to the table, settling on it and propping his feet up before speaking.]
No goddamn clue where I am.
[He groans, rubbing the back of his neck.]
'M in a room, in a house, and Sammy if you get this broadcast you come and find me, you hear? For all I know it's the freakin' trickster again tryin' to screw around with me, and this time I don't wanna die chokin' on a taco or getting a desk dropped on my sexy head.
[The man glares at the camera before digging into his leather jacket, pulling out an IMI Desert Eagle semi-automatic pistol and checking the weight and munitions cartridge. Prying one of the bullets out, he holds it up to the camera briefly.]
See that? Wrought iron.
[Looks rather pleased with himself as he replaces it in its case and reloads the gun.]
If any demons or ghosts come around lookin' for me I'll be ready.
[Quirks a little smile at the gun before tucking it back into his jacket and fingering the amulet around his neck, lost in thought for a moment before mumbling hoarsely.]
...you gotta find me, Sammy. S'not like I had much time left, anyway.
[He reaches over, and there are a few seconds of muffled, bumping noises before he hits the switch and the screen goes black.]
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[Action]
Date: 2010-10-31 03:57 am (UTC)I'll bring us there. It's the least I can do for showing up late, even if it was fashionably so.
[]
It's on the first floor, but I'm sure we'll all be fine in your capable hands. Shall we?
[Action]
Date: 2010-10-31 04:02 am (UTC)Uh-huh. [She stands next to Dean, then gives Kurt the sweetest most kindest smile ever. No, really.] Go on, then, Kurt. Lead on, and we'll follow. Behind you.
[switching gears]
Date: 2010-10-31 04:57 am (UTC)