He slams himself back harder and faster, and Jo's teeth nearly shake with the sound of that impact. No, not impact; retreat. Hard, heavy, desperate. It's clawing up her spine, the fucking freaked-out level that he's just ramping by the second, and she can't stop breathing in that horrid scent.
"Yeah. So. I'm—" Jo's voice is a little taut. "—not so great at all of that yet. At least where it comes to things that aren't inside the bar."
It feels stupid to admit, comes tumbling off her tongue a little too haltingly fast, and like something she should have figured out. But Dean. The Roadhouse. The Bunker. Libertas. She hasn't had the time. She hasn't taken the time. She's only been focused on her single goal from day one: hunting. And fuck all now, she needs those things she wasn't looking at.
"Look. Just." She doesn't even know. "Hold still. I'll try."
It's probably comic. Jo's once-floating hand ends up on the pillar. Her eyes close, her forehead scrunches, and she thinks about a door. And kill her, but it's right now the door in the bar going to the bunker? She tries to think about it as clearly as she can, teeth pressing, and it feels fuck all stupid. Eyes slit for staring at a wall, and going wide as a skinny crack of yellow-white light starts making the trail outline of the tall rectangle shape.
But the light won't get bigger even as she pushes hard as she can fathom, fingertips gripping the column to white. The space inside the line still looks like the wall.
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"Yeah. So. I'm—" Jo's voice is a little taut. "—not so great at all of that yet. At least where it comes to things that aren't inside the bar."
It feels stupid to admit, comes tumbling off her tongue a little too haltingly fast, and like something she should have figured out. But Dean. The Roadhouse. The Bunker. Libertas. She hasn't had the time. She hasn't taken the time. She's only been focused on her single goal from day one: hunting. And fuck all now, she needs those things she wasn't looking at.
"Look. Just." She doesn't even know. "Hold still. I'll try."
It's probably comic. Jo's once-floating hand ends up on the pillar. Her eyes close, her forehead scrunches, and she thinks about a door. And kill her, but it's right now the door in the bar going to the bunker? She tries to think about it as clearly as she can, teeth pressing, and it feels fuck all stupid. Eyes slit for staring at a wall, and going wide as a skinny crack of yellow-white light starts making the trail outline of the tall rectangle shape.
But the light won't get bigger even as she pushes hard as she can fathom, fingertips gripping the column to white. The space inside the line still looks like the wall.