[ she does quite like the sound of her name coming from him. henry. he'd looked upon her once with such softness, such kinship, that she sometimes thinks she misses the guise of josie. if only she had waited a little longer, had been able to twist the knife just a little tighter into his back before blowing her cover and trying to cut the heads off of the several headed snake. the men of letters were easy to kill; Winchesters, she's finding, are not. ]
[ she crosses her arms against her chest. arching her brow, she looks upon him with amusement apparent in the shape of her lips. ] And whom would that be? [ she can't quite help the smirk. out of place, out of time; henry winchester will, always, be years too late. ] All your good friends are dead.
no subject
[ she crosses her arms against her chest. arching her brow, she looks upon him with amusement apparent in the shape of her lips. ] And whom would that be? [ she can't quite help the smirk. out of place, out of time; henry winchester will, always, be years too late. ] All your good friends are dead.