Even when Winchester grabs onto his arm, Stark only vaguely seems to notice him, giving him a hard-faced but brief glare as he almost effortlessly yanks his arm out of the hunter's grasp. The idea that a human woman is being possessed doesn't carry much weight with him at the moment; though he'd normally feel bad about it, all Stark can think of is carving up the bitch's face until it can never bear that gloatingly self-satisfied smile again.
How long are these bastards (by which, he means the ENTIRE world) going to use Alice to get to him?
Probably as long as he keeps letting it happen.
The rapid-fire burst of Latin catches Stark off guard, and he stops halfway between Winchester and the demon bitch, watching with the same dark, blank expression as the woman shakes and screeches and eventually vomits up what looks to be a years' worth of LA smog in a manner of seconds.
And then Stark is left with an unconscious, nude burlesque dancer; a seemingly only mildly disgruntled hunter; and a fury that's still making his limbs tremble. He can't quite force his jaw to unlock itself yet, so he simply glares at the stereo console, which dies in the middle of AC/DC's "Going Down" with a pathetic warble and a couple of sparks.
Looking from the stereo to the stripper, then to Winchester, confused but much too angry to admit it, Stark exhales a forceful huff and stalks back across the room to reclaim the bottle of Aqua Regia he'd set down. He uses the black blade to spear the cork out of its pretentious cut-glass resting place and swallows the liquid down like it's water. A few moments of this, and he can finally speak.
"I'm going to sleep. When I wake up, we're leaving." With his tone, it's clear Stark is still pissed, and if it's not directly at Winchester, the guy at least comes in as a misdirected outlet.
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Date: 2013-05-01 03:36 am (UTC)How long are these bastards (by which, he means the ENTIRE world) going to use Alice to get to him?
Probably as long as he keeps letting it happen.
The rapid-fire burst of Latin catches Stark off guard, and he stops halfway between Winchester and the demon bitch, watching with the same dark, blank expression as the woman shakes and screeches and eventually vomits up what looks to be a years' worth of LA smog in a manner of seconds.
And then Stark is left with an unconscious, nude burlesque dancer; a seemingly only mildly disgruntled hunter; and a fury that's still making his limbs tremble. He can't quite force his jaw to unlock itself yet, so he simply glares at the stereo console, which dies in the middle of AC/DC's "Going Down" with a pathetic warble and a couple of sparks.
Looking from the stereo to the stripper, then to Winchester, confused but much too angry to admit it, Stark exhales a forceful huff and stalks back across the room to reclaim the bottle of Aqua Regia he'd set down. He uses the black blade to spear the cork out of its pretentious cut-glass resting place and swallows the liquid down like it's water. A few moments of this, and he can finally speak.
"I'm going to sleep. When I wake up, we're leaving." With his tone, it's clear Stark is still pissed, and if it's not directly at Winchester, the guy at least comes in as a misdirected outlet.