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As much as it's become a sort of Winchester magnet, the house is not exactly Dianne's favorite place to be.

This is why, when she's not with her baby*, she's put up shop (so to speak) in a somewhat near, likewise-abandoned house that is more or less intact and the beds are pretty comfortable.

(Which makes her feel just a bit like Goldilocks, and that just isn't right.)

Presently, she's dragged a chair out onto the porch for the purpose of busily not wondering what's happening in her universe without her.

(It looks oddly a little bit like napping.)

*The Impala. >.<

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Avoidance of the Winchester House, Redux.

Jo's walking around on foot in town. She hasn't missed the looks between the bothers and the staring at her.

She doesn't know. She's not sure she gives a damn towards wanting to.

Which is of course why she left to walk around, looking annoyed at the world.

She's a light... thinker.

Because she's not napping.

And opens her eyes rather quick to see who's coming, which is fine because they were just shut for a second.

"Hey."

The moment she looks up, it's a look of death.

That slips--

(because it's Dianne, and even if she's Dean, she hasn't pissed off Jo herself)

--into a one of simply disgruntled at distraction.

"Hey."

"Something going on?"

Because, hey, a look like that is difficult to miss, even if it is shortlived.

Jo's lips tightened, before she said far too high sounding.

"I forgot how much I love your brothers."

Go on, says her expression.

She cracks her knuckles.

It's not a warning. It's a badly timed bad habit of being angry and having too much energy.

"Tired already of the fuckin' whispering and staring. If they want something they should just say it. Or I'm gonna have to hit someone again."

Hitting someone, Dianne does not say, is the Family Way.

"Yeah, well."

That seems to be all she has to say.

That response? Too, too familiar.

It garners a hard stare.

Followed by.

"Why are you out here?"

"If the alternative is staying at That House? I'd stay in someone's crappy flooded basement."

Colourful, but it gets the point accross.

Jo's lips actually curl at one side.

Amusedly in agreement.

"Think you can find one with a closet that isn't too moldy?"

Beat.

"I can even kill the boogie men left inside it myself."

She gestures widely at the surrounding houses. "Most of these are in pretty good shape."

"It's so.."

Jo's looking around.

Nose wrinkled in some distaste.

"Suburbia. Curtains and carpets, and praying there might be something behind a door to kill."

"You could find a basement."

It's not an actual suggestion.

Jo shoves her hands in pockets.

Still looking distastefully at the house beside them.

It used to have pink shutters, by whats left hanging by windows.

"I've got plans."

She doesn't say, perhaps smartly, that should practically kill to have had suburbia.

Still, there is interest. "Yeah?"

Do tell.

"There's a place I gotta go."

Jo looked back.

Contemplating a half frown.

By the biting of her bottom lip.

"Before I can settle anywhere."

Headtilt.

"Where's that?"

Jo looked at her.

Dianne, if she was Dean, just out of time and universe.

And if she was from when she was. And they'd never met.

"Nebraska."

Blink.

"What's in Nebraska?"

"A bar."

Then, a considering half-frown.

"It used to be home. A time back."

~~Stooooorytime.~~

"What happened?"

Jo smirked at that.

It's not the patented come and get me smirk.

This one is colder and distant and, somewhere right at the edges, it's weary.

"I had to grow up and leave the nest."

"Sucks."

It's not as callous as it reads.

"Fuck yeah."

And hers isn't as cold as her expression was either.

It's quieter. There's regret mixed with anger, but its not on top.

Sometimes in the black, she though she hated her mother for having to leave to be herself.

But she could never hate her mom. She never wanted to try.

They were all each other had left really. And the bar.

"I just want" (ie: need) "to see if it's out there."

She gets that, really. She may not want to stay in the old house in Lawrence, but she wouldn't have wanted to find out it didn't exist, either.

Jo expects it be ruins.

But she's been through that before.

(Except...)

No one here knows the Road House like her.

"I'm headed into town. Anything you need while I'm lookin' around?"

Edited 2008-06-12 18:43 (UTC)

A long, thoughtful, pondering pause.

"Beer."

"Cool."

Jo nods and starts heading off down the direction she was head first.

She's a bartender. So if she can she'll find the good beer, not the piss they've been stealing lately.

At some stage in the afternoon, she finds herself with a Dean leaning on the verandah pillar, arms folded, eyeing her distrustfully.

"If you're gonna stand there," she says, presently, "you might as well make yourself useful and block the sun from getting in my eyes."

Good start, totally.

Actually ...

... it kinda is.

Obligingly, Dean shifts a few feet to the right to lean against the other pillar, blocking the sun. He may or may not be hiding a smirk.

Huh.

She cracks an eye open. "You here for any reason?"

Curiousity time.

"Nuh."

He shrugs.

"Curiousity."

Beat.

"Well, I'm not the Bearded Lady."

It's more or less amiable.

"Thank fuck for that," Dean remarks, with a yawn. "Any version of me's a freakshow, it better be a damn good freakshow. Bearded Ladies're old news."

"Though, if we ever ran short of money," kindly ignoring that, in Apocalypse Land, they don't need money, "we could sell Sammy off as a giant."

(Whatever, it's not one of her best. She just ~~woke up~~ came out of a deep... thinking.

She gets a half-effort at a laugh anyway. Cos hey, he wasn't doing any better.

"Sammy worrying y'?"

He's sure as hell freaking Dean out.

"Yeah."

That seems to be all she's inclined to say about it.

Dean nods.

She's pretty easy to get along with, he guesses. Knows when to talk and when to shut up.

That's nice.

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