Similarly to Jo, Sam finds he has a hard time not allowing the barest of smirks to take over his features. While he would love to think they could all fall into an easy rapport as if nothing strange were happening here, he knows better than to give into the allure of creature comforts at a time like this. The easy familiarity — something rarely shared with anyone genuinely in the life of a hunter — while enticing, can't be all that any of them rely on, especially in this hostile (if not suspiciously accommodating) environment.

"Nice dodge," he points out without any real malice. It's hard enough to know what to feel seeing Jo again, but Sam knows for sure that it's not bad. (Concerning, perhaps. Definitely bizarre. Certainly not bad.)

"We're in the bunker, yeah. Finally, our own rooms," he bemoans toothlessly. And then Sam huffs, hand running through his hair. "Strange choice, don't you think? Maybe not so much for us," he says because it's really all they have, "but does anyone know how those places are made? Magic, sure, but doesn't anyone worry about what might be looking around their heads to do it?"

Call him suspicious and paranoid, but Sam thinks he has plenty of precedence to wonder. It feels like grounds for worry since it's become clear to him this is a shared landscape and perhaps some things might not be so easily hidden.