Kinda thinking about setting up the tents in the living room for the entertainment value, though...
COME AT ME, YPSI. I've got plenty of thermal clothing, solar chargers, emergency goods, and water filters, so if you wanna keep at it and go full-on natural disaster I'm ready. Just don't send in the tornadoes because the basement is flooded! Thx
On the other hand:
"You good on your end?" Dean asks.
It occurs to Sam that he must sound significantly more put together than he feels. He pulls more cotton fibers from his chest, gooey and wormlike. Filaments myelinated with his skin. "Yeah. Gonna find a CVS," he says.
"Fireworks?" the cashier had asked, eyeing Sam's hair and the bandages and alcohol and Aspercreme on the counter.
"Sure," said Sam. He's pretty sure he only looked homeless, not medium rare.
The motel clerk hadn't said anything at all. Kid would've sold a bed to an elephant without noticing.
Not that Sam can judge. He doesn't remember tending to himself, but it's 3AM when he wakes up to his chest and arm tingling as the lidocaine wears off. He's cleanly bandaged and otherwise naked. It's solid work, Sam appraises. And he's feeling significantly more alive now, after the passing out and the painkillers. The mystery of his day floats back to him.
They'd been hunting paper birds.