( They're in the Roadhouse. It's largely empty for once, no patrons drinking casually, nobody but them and maybe the unobtrusive fleeting presence of Jo, who doesn't linger. The tables and chairs have been shoved away, leaving a wide open space of wooden floor in the center of the bar. On top of the bar itself, a couple cans of white spray paint and a loose-leaf piece of paper with a symbol sketched onto it.
He stands nearby, arms crossed over his chest, watching her work. Step number one: have her practice painting the thing from memory until she gets it right. She's smart. It doesn't take many attempts before she nails it. When she finishes, he surveys her work for a moment, and then nods approvingly. )
Looks good. You ready for a trial run?
( Step number two: thinking up a fake, generic demon for her to exorcise. )
ᴅᴀᴍɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴋ, ᴅᴀᴍɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪɢʜᴛ → ( ɴᴀᴅɪɴᴇ )
He stands nearby, arms crossed over his chest, watching her work. Step number one: have her practice painting the thing from memory until she gets it right. She's smart. It doesn't take many attempts before she nails it. When she finishes, he surveys her work for a moment, and then nods approvingly. )
Looks good. You ready for a trial run?
( Step number two: thinking up a fake, generic demon for her to exorcise. )