Stark continues watching Winchester for a long moment, like he's never seen anything like him and doesn't quite know what to do with him. When he, Stark, came back from Hell, he knew immediately that he was home. But then again, Stark walked himself out of Hell. Finally he shrugs one shoulder, addressing the last question flippantly. "It's just a trick I can do."
Redirecting his gaze, Stark scrubs the towel over his arm a few more times then tosses it towards the bathroom. Most of the flash-fried flesh has come off, leaving the flesh beneath raw and red, fading to a deep sunburn at his wrist and bicep. Another dip in the duffel bag comes up with a thick glass jar full of a reddish-brown paste flecked with plant matter, which when opened proves to smell like gasoline with a musky, pungent herbal underbite, sort of like pennyroyal. Stark scoops a bit out with his left hand, wrinkles his nose at the goop, but starts slathering his arm with it.
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Date: 2013-04-07 12:13 am (UTC)Redirecting his gaze, Stark scrubs the towel over his arm a few more times then tosses it towards the bathroom. Most of the flash-fried flesh has come off, leaving the flesh beneath raw and red, fading to a deep sunburn at his wrist and bicep. Another dip in the duffel bag comes up with a thick glass jar full of a reddish-brown paste flecked with plant matter, which when opened proves to smell like gasoline with a musky, pungent herbal underbite, sort of like pennyroyal. Stark scoops a bit out with his left hand, wrinkles his nose at the goop, but starts slathering his arm with it.