The narration can only encourage this. ALL THE ENCOURAGEMENT EVER. Because said canon is glorious. :DDDDDD
"Okay, yeah," Deb says, "I'm already fuckin' tired of it, but I guess it's more productive do something than write letters." She grins. "Did anyone ever mention you were a saint for lasting this long then, Sonny?" It's said in a joking way, but it's - not completely a joke. Some days Deb can't believe she's made it this long here, much less ten years.
Of course, Sonny's used to these things. Hell, he's a demon, so Deb's definition of normal is already a fuck of a lot different than hers. But she gets the feeling that even with all the experience he has it's still - the place still affects you, plenty.
Sometimes she thinks that might be a good thing, though. That maybe the real problem starts when you get too used to all of this, the way detectives, after a while, can see a mutilated corpse and still eat their lunch shortly after.
It's all perspective, really.
"In that case, I'm a shining fuckin' beacon of optimism," Deb says, and she almost manages to keep a straight face through that statement, but not quite.
...Either/or! They're the one with important shit to do here, so the average person had best just behave themselves. Or something.
Deb tries to keep herself busy while Sonny's in the room, spending her time looking around the place for other clues, but she can't help it if she's a little fucking nervous, and the relief shows on her face a bit when he leaves the room.
And that relief turns to slight disbelief when she sees that the thing Sonny's holding looks like a goddamn napkin holder. "That'd be a little too fucking convenient," Deb says, and then, realizing what she said about the guy dying, she grimaces. "I mean - you know what I mean."
She walks with him back outside, her eyes still trained on the bomb-that-looks-nothing-like-a-bomb. Thank god for freaky Rift-detecting objects, because seriously, who the fuck would expect that? "Seriously," she agrees, and then once the bomb is secure in the trash can, she straightens up and nods. "Right," she says. "Let's get this over with."
no subject
The narration can only encourage this. ALL THE ENCOURAGEMENT EVER. Because said canon is glorious.
:DDDDDD"Okay, yeah," Deb says, "I'm already fuckin' tired of it, but I guess it's more productive do something than write letters." She grins. "Did anyone ever mention you were a saint for lasting this long then, Sonny?" It's said in a joking way, but it's - not completely a joke. Some days Deb can't believe she's made it this long here, much less ten years.
Of course, Sonny's used to these things. Hell, he's a demon, so Deb's definition of normal is already a fuck of a lot different than hers. But she gets the feeling that even with all the experience he has it's still - the place still affects you, plenty.
Sometimes she thinks that might be a good thing, though. That maybe the real problem starts when you get too used to all of this, the way detectives, after a while, can see a mutilated corpse and still eat their lunch shortly after.
It's all perspective, really.
"In that case, I'm a shining fuckin' beacon of optimism," Deb says, and she almost manages to keep a straight face through that statement, but not quite.
...Either/or! They're the one with important shit to do here, so the average person had best just behave themselves. Or something.
Deb tries to keep herself busy while Sonny's in the room, spending her time looking around the place for other clues, but she can't help it if she's a little fucking nervous, and the relief shows on her face a bit when he leaves the room.
And that relief turns to slight disbelief when she sees that the thing Sonny's holding looks like a goddamn napkin holder. "That'd be a little too fucking convenient," Deb says, and then, realizing what she said about the guy dying, she grimaces. "I mean - you know what I mean."
She walks with him back outside, her eyes still trained on the bomb-that-looks-nothing-like-a-bomb. Thank god for freaky Rift-detecting objects, because seriously, who the fuck would expect that? "Seriously," she agrees, and then once the bomb is secure in the trash can, she straightens up and nods. "Right," she says. "Let's get this over with."