I sort of got off on making bad guys sweat. Which was not unlike my love of making good guys sweat, just by very different means.

This is one Fruit Loop beyond certifiable.

Your existence gives me a headache. Go stand over there.

Have they even seen the Winchester boys? Sammy and Dean's existence proves there is a god and she is a woman.

I’m currently unsupervised It frisks me out too but the possibilities are endless

For one week, all I could think about was drinking margaritas--well, that and running my tongue along Reyes's teeth--but I didn't have salt--or Reyes's teeth. I'd also lacked the energy to leave my apartment to get some--or the desire to stoop low enough to beg Reyes to let me lick his teeth after what he did--so I could only wish for a margarita. And dream of Reyes's teeth. I'd secretly hoped a margarita would magically appear in my hand, but that would mean I would have to put down the remote, and God knew that was not going to happen.

Dead people I could handle. They were usually beyond hysteria. This was the people-left behind part. The hard part.