The Roof, Late Wednesday Night

[bitchy_smurf]

One could only spend so many evenings almost-politely pretending not to watch Sam Winchester sleep before one needed to find alternate amusements. Up here, there was sky, at least, and stars, and in the distance, the sea. The universe was still too small, but not as small as that choked-off box of wriggling human larvae had been today, drenched in the stench of sweat, fear, and testosterone.

Illyria didn't smell like testosterone. She didn't smell like anything, and she looked...like Illyria.

You could ask.

You could.

[OOC: Open at least until I craaaash!]