( As it so happens, whoever may be nearby is one non-flannel clad denim-less Winchester, who practically jumps a foot in the air when that voice pipes up from just over his right shoulder. Beer sloshes over his stein onto the counter as one hand goes for a gun in his waistband that does not actually exist.
Two seconds later, his brain actually processes the face and the voice.
He relaxes minutely, but that's only because he's got to divert some of his energy into a resigned-incredulous peanut butter and jelly combo. )
How in the hell- ( He just- ) What- ( A pause, and then with more feeling: ) What?
cadens
Two seconds later, his brain actually processes the face and the voice.
He relaxes minutely, but that's only because he's got to divert some of his energy into a resigned-incredulous peanut butter and jelly combo. )
How in the hell- ( He just- ) What- ( A pause, and then with more feeling: ) What?