Though he doesn't trust the easy acquiescence for a second, Stark is glad that Winchester has apparently decided not to argue with him for now. He continues watching silently for a moment. The hunter is ridiculously easy to read, Stark could probably feel out his exact thoughts word-for-word, which isn't something he can do with everyone. The reluctant half-hearted agreement is obviously temporary, and Stark's sure this guy plans on shaking him loose as soon as possible.
Stark releases a little noise of exasperation, but doesn't pursue the ended conversation. Instead, he turns to face the mess on his bed. Finding an empty duffel bag, he starts to load it with anything that might possibly come in useful on this roadtrip to Apocalypseville. The black bone blade he stole from Azazel; the stone Lucifer gave him the last time he saw him; Kasabian's Hand of Glory; Michael's athame; a couple of quirky things he took in trade from Muninn for various jobs. And the more mundane artifacts: lead for drawing circles; salt for ghosts; hodge-podge of herbs and minerals and liquids for potions and spells; silver for just about every-damn-thing. And guns, enough guns for the Confederate Army, various shapes and sizes. A few human-made blades for good measure. He hefts an ancient-looking book into his lap, glowering at it for a moment for not coming in a Cliff-Notes version, but throws it into the bag, as well.
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Date: 2013-04-07 06:52 am (UTC)Stark releases a little noise of exasperation, but doesn't pursue the ended conversation. Instead, he turns to face the mess on his bed. Finding an empty duffel bag, he starts to load it with anything that might possibly come in useful on this roadtrip to Apocalypseville. The black bone blade he stole from Azazel; the stone Lucifer gave him the last time he saw him; Kasabian's Hand of Glory; Michael's athame; a couple of quirky things he took in trade from Muninn for various jobs. And the more mundane artifacts: lead for drawing circles; salt for ghosts; hodge-podge of herbs and minerals and liquids for potions and spells; silver for just about every-damn-thing. And guns, enough guns for the Confederate Army, various shapes and sizes. A few human-made blades for good measure. He hefts an ancient-looking book into his lap, glowering at it for a moment for not coming in a Cliff-Notes version, but throws it into the bag, as well.
He's going to have to steal a big car.