[ This moment is brought to you but Caden's Fried Chicken — or it might be if such industriousness was set towards advertising. But for now, it's not a tasty fried morsel nor is it some blue ribbon prize, but very much a normal ass, egg laying, drowns in the rain, dumb as fucking nails chicken that Sam Winchester has been dodging competitively. ]

A normal chicken with some kind of vendetta, [ he corrects.

Sam reaches up to push his hair out of his face and back into place, eyes pinging between the angel and his prize. He's slowly covering the ground between them and as he gets closer, the chicken pecks in his direction causing Sam to stop and re-think his approach. ]

Cas, thanks. I didn't even see you there.

[ Well, he wouldn't have, would he? Because he was being harassed by a hen and the number of moments where he imagined himself having to explain why his eyes had been scratched out had kept him focused on not letting that happen. ]

Here— [ He's approaching again, arms outreached but head pulled back and turned away like he might be requesting to receive some bomb about to go off. ] —let me just— take her for you...

[ Honestly not the best idea. This chicken is not a fan of Sam Winchester. ]