Sam nods, letting her go first, following behind. He's still thinking about rocks and trees and what else might explode or melt when in this neat and tidy house, the toe of his boot catches on a bump in the carpet.

The door knob he uses to catch himself is to a closet.

Where a rifle and a crossbow manage to tumble out the open door.



Sam blinks at them for a moment before smirking humorously. "I guess the psychic powers weren't everything," he observes darkly, crouching to pick up the weapons.