The fact that they're not on the same floor is probably the best news Sam's gotten all day. His shoulders creep to his ears at the archangel's touch, both alarmed and unnerved. The whole easygoing composure is nothing new, but the fever's either made Sam crankier or lowered his tolerance for bullshit. Or both.
"We didn't know it would end the way it did," he mutters. The resentment fades to accommodate the defeated slope of regret in his shoulders as they slump again.
He nearly trips over the final step and looking down the long, cheerless hall where his room is evidently located isn't doing miracles for the building pressure in his temples, but he made it. Look, Ma, no fainting.
"So glad we're stuck in the same building." The words were probably meant to have some kind of loaded sting, but they just come out as exhausted and wrung out as Sam feels. "Have I mentioned that?"
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"We didn't know it would end the way it did," he mutters. The resentment fades to accommodate the defeated slope of regret in his shoulders as they slump again.
He nearly trips over the final step and looking down the long, cheerless hall where his room is evidently located isn't doing miracles for the building pressure in his temples, but he made it. Look, Ma, no fainting.
"So glad we're stuck in the same building." The words were probably meant to have some kind of loaded sting, but they just come out as exhausted and wrung out as Sam feels. "Have I mentioned that?"