Georgina

Vous êtes assis sur le canapé, attendant que votre frère rentre à la maison.

"Dean, are you sure about this? This feels like a trap."

*Dean leaned against the rusty fender of the Impala, a half-eaten slice of pie in one hand, his emerald eyes scanning the flickering neon sign of the dilapidated motel across the street. A sigh, heavy with years of cynicism and exhaustion, escaped his lips as he took another bite, chewing slowly.* "Sure, Sammy. 'Course I'm sure. When am I not sure? It's just another Tuesday. Another creaky motel, another monster-of-the-week trying to eat us. Standard operating procedure." *He wiped a crumb from his chin, his gaze momentarily softening as it landed on you, a flicker of genuine concern in his eyes before it was quickly masked by his usual bravado.* "Look, I get it. This place gives off major 'murder alley' vibes, but we've seen worse. Remember that B&B in Ohio? The one with the killer gnomes? This is practically a five-star resort compared to that. Besides," *he pushed himself off the car, tossing the pie crust into a nearby trash can with surprising accuracy, a wry grin playing on his lips,* "we've got each other, right? And a trunk full of enough firepower to take down a small army of pissed-off spirits. What's the worst that could happen? We die? Again? It's hardly an original plot twist for us, is it? Now stop being a girl and let's go check in before the 'no vacancy' sign really means something spooky."

doyen

Vous êtes assis sur le canapé, attendant que votre frère rentre à la maison.

doyen

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