Monsters and Hunts and Green Eggs and Ham

[amos_moses]

Who: Amos Kamiya, Sam Winchester, Maketh Tua
What: Sam and Amos go monster-hunting to trade Rage for bullets, and afterwards Amos feeds his reluctant roommate and Sam too!
Where: The tunnels, Amos's apartment
When: June 4th
Warnings: Monster gore, blood, probably a lot of violence and some bad language. Also Amos's socks.

Monster Hunting with Sam Winchester! Amos, as a rule, does not hunt monsters. Usually, he runs across them by accident, mainly while accompanying other people. He feels that even monsters are just trying to live, and thus hunting them solely because they exist just seems a bit cruel to him. Killing anything tends to be violent, and Amos prefers to avoid that as much as possible.

Life is not perfect, however, and Amos tends to make friends with people who do unpleasant things like hunt monsters.

At least this time there is a purpose, and that’s exchanging monster corpses for bullets at Rage’s altar.

Amos ambles along behind Sam, mainly because Sam’s legs are longer. There’s a jabberjay on Amos’s shoulder, and after a moment he asks it to fly ahead.

“Hey, go check the tunnel for us, please?” Amos asks, politely, in a low whisper so Sam knows what he’s doing.

The bird demands breadcrumbs, which Amos obediently produces, and after two crumbs the bird launches off Amos’s shoulder and flies ahead in the darkness. Amos pockets his handful of crumbs again.

Lunch at Amos’ Place Amos, while being able to cook, doesn’t always. Why get fancy when he can slap a sandwich together and eat that? PB&J requires minimal effort for maximum yum. But he’s invited Sam over for lunch, because he likes Sam, and so he is indeed going to put forth an effort. A childhood lived in the Deep South means feeding people is love, and Amos is pretty sure Sam needs some extra food anyway. All that tall.

And if Maketh happens to come through, Amos will nab her and make her eat, too. She tends to get very wrapped up in organizing things, and will forget to eat. Amos knows he does this, too, but nowhere near as often as Maketh does. It’s really unhealthy.

So Amos is in the kitchen, warbling a tune that he’s fairly sure is an old folk hymn, but he can’t remember half the words and so is fitting in nonsense syllables and noises to keep the tune going. He’s bouncing from foot to foot as he stirs a pot of soup. There’s a funny kind of bread in flat loaves, some olive-green round things that are the equivalent of chicken eggs, a few new root vegetables borrowed from Newt’s garden, and the bear jerky softening in the stew will be quite tender and tasty when it’s through.

He’s wearing a white tank top and his usual baggy jeans, and his socks slide a bit on the floor as he bounces: his socks are neon-rainbow striped toe socks, and go up to his knees. The rest of his clothes are mundane and drab, but his socks are always vivid. They match the various brightly-coloured pillows and blankets strewn about the apartment. He likes bright colours, and doesn’t exactly mind if they clash. It makes things more cheerful.

Comments

Lunch

[mismanagement]

Maketh came back to the apartment intending to grab a quick shower and then head back to the guard post. There's more paperwork to be filed and she's not yet finished her latest weapon designs. Or, indeed, determined if she has the proper supplies to even make the damn thing. But productivity has stalled and she hasn't slept for a while.

Instead of sleeping, she's hoping that a shower will clear her head.

She doesn't expect to see Amos in the kitchen, of all places. "Are you...cooking?"

Re: Lunch

[amos_moses]

"Tryin' to," is the answer, full of typical good cheer. Amos grins at Maketh. "Hey honey! How's you today? I ain't seen you in a bit."

This still cheerfully, but it's full of the subtle Southern guilt: and why haven't you been home or visiting?. It's a delicate art but Amos has borne the full brunt of it in his time, and learned well.

[mismanagement]

"I've been at the guard post."

Sleeping at her desk, when she does sleep. There's been too much work to do. Maketh rubs her face. The kitchen smells like spices. It's nice. "Would it be all right if I joined you?"

[amos_moses]

"You're welcome to join me any time you like, darlin'." Amos beams happily at her. "You shouldn't spend so much time working. It's bad for your health. It's good to take a break. Gives you a fresh perspective sometimes."

Lecture delivered, Amos eyes his soup, then points to the eggs on the counter. Or at least, the plate of hard-boiled perfectly spherical olive-green things. They taste like eggs, and have a hard brittle shell, but the insides are clear whites and dark green yolks. Amos has no idea what kind of creature they might come from.

"Those are kinda like eggs? They taste pretty decent hard-boiled. Soup ain't done just yet, so you can try one a'those if ya like."

The bear jerky is proving mighty tough. Needs extra stewing to make it less like dried leather and more edible.

[mismanagement]

Maketh shrugs, moving over for a better look. She can't cook beyond the simple things, but apparently Amos can improvise with the odd almost-familiar things that Hadriel provides. "Thank you. I'm afraid I'm no cook, or I'd offer to help."

[amos_moses]

"I ain't exactly a cook either, but I can at least put things together." Amos rolls a shrug. He can't create great meals but it will at least be edible. He continues stirring, still shifting his weight back and forth from one foot to the other, but no longer hopping with it, the better to talk to Maketh.

"What's got you burnin' the candle at both ends, sugar?" It could very well be anything.

[mismanagement]

Maketh shrugs. He's not the first to ask her that. It hardly matters. "There's work to be done. Lots of things to be done with the Guard."

[amos_moses]

"I know that. What're you workin' on right now, I mean," Amos rephrases. He's used to that: despite his years abroad he still uses the informal and often peculiar grammar of the South, and repeating himself for clarity is nothing new.

[mismanagement]

Maketh shrugs. "Inventory. Writing up patrol reports and trying to determine if any of it is actually important."

Administrative busywork, for the most part. Someone must do it and Maketh doesn't trust anyone else to do it right. And, of course, there is her secret project. Amos doesn't need to know about that.

[amos_moses]

"Ah, paperwork. Yanno I'm a secretary, right?"

It's not just his official job designation, he actually does do a lot of paperwork for Kameko, official and yakuza. The side-trips are mainly just that, occasional side-trips to where she can't go when her presence needs to be made known. She trusts Amos to act in her best interests every time. And he does, mainly be ause he knows exactly what they are by the decisions and reports that cross his desk every day.

Amos glanes over his shoulder. It's not so much that he's invested in Maketh guard project, but more that she could be making better use of the resources at her disposal in order to get more rest.

Why does he end up riding herd on all the workaholics in his life?

[mismanagement]

"Truly?"

She hadn't known that. Maketh rubs her face, considering. "Would you be willing to help me? I'm afraid I can't pay you, but it would make things go much faster."

[amos_moses]

"I am. That's my official job designation. My boss-lady runs a good business."

Though Amos is aware Maketh knows by now that isn't the only thing Amos does, and probably that what he does might not exactly be legal. He's not going to say that until he's sure she knows. No need to spill the beans when people don't look kindly on criminals.

He pretends to consider her request, humming thoughtfully and tapping his lips with a finger. "Well. Maybe. If it'll keep you from wearing yourself to a nub."

[mismanagement]

Exactly what kind of business Amos happens to be in, Maketh isn't quite sure. Something underhand, of that she's certain, and a trade that's given him useful skills. Perhaps she'll pry that secret out of him in time, but there's no use in that just yet.

But they could use more people to handle the paperwork. Thus far, Maketh is the only one who knows how to do it, or is willing to admit as much.

She gives Amos a little smile. "I suppose that could be arranged."

[amos_moses]

"Good. I'll take my payments in you taking breaks," Amos agrees, and moves his soup off the heat. He turns and offers out a hand for Maketh to shake and so seal the deal, grinning. It's half-playful and half-fond, because he really does like her.

hunts!

[hollowly]

Sam is, beyond a shadow of a doubt, not an advocate for killing things just for the sake of killing. There have been so-called monsters in his past that have been anything other than that, just trying to make lives for themselves without hurting anyone. ( Benny had been one of them, even though he hadn't thought so initially, and it still makes him cringe to think of what he'd put himself up for just to help them out. )

But, when there's a need for something - in this case, bullets for the gun that he carries around instinctively and has yet to find a real need for, aside from the familiar sort of comfort offered by its weight in his hand - exceptions are made, and thus he finds himself in the caves with Amos, always more willing to do something like this with someone else than going it alone. He watches as the jabberjay flies ahead of them, gun already in hand, ready for anything.

"Did I miss when you took up bird-wrangling?" Sam. ( It's legit, though, because he swears the other hadn't always had that thing with him, and he's poking around in his memories to try to find one in which it had been there. He comes up empty-handed. He definitely missed something.

[amos_moses]

Amos chuckles. "Been doing that since they been here. Only two or three like to help me, even if I can hear all of 'em."

He pauses, a hesitation between steps, as he deciphers the information the bird sends to him of the tunnel ahead. It's no tidy image or word, it's a dense chunk of sensory input, a momentary glimpse into the creature's brain. Amos, by now an expert of translating the foreign viewpoint and input into useful information, sorts it out and continues walking.

"Tunnel splits ahead into three, some tracks of something to the right-most, tastes like cat," he reports to Sam. "An' a mimic where the tunnel splits. Air's good, though, nice current an' flow."

He warns the bird not to venture too far ahead. He can't help if he can't get there in time. The bird finds a stalagtite perch and waits for them.

tmw you realize you forgot to close a parenthesis and it's too late SOB.

[hollowly]

The more time he spends with Amos, the more he leans about him; and it's a good thing, he thinks, because he likes to know everything he can about the ones he calls friends. ( And one never knows when something might come in handy somewhere down along the line. )

"Right," he chuckles a bit, "like the bug-whispering." Ah, a throwback to another almost-ridiculous conversation a while back. It's amusing, sometimes, to make those little correlations, isn't it?

He makes a humming sort of noise as he considers their options. "Take care of the mimic first, then head right? Check that out?" It seems like the safest option, all things considered, but one can never be too sure about future outcomes when it comes to meandering through caves as dangerous as these.

[amos_moses]

"Bug-whispering, bird-whispering, yup. I'm best with mammals, though." There aren't any in the cave, though, except for a dog or two.

"Sounds like a plan." Amos lays a hand on his gun, holstered at his waist but hidden under his coat. He's not in the habit of openly carrying any weapon.