It's beer day with Nathan, and Sam's got a different craft beer this time from a microbrewery in the countryside. He's had it before, and figures it'd be a nice switch from Darrow IPA.
He doesn't even bother knocking anymore before he lets himself in. He just drops his things off on the counter and gets out two bottles. He looks around, realizes there's nothing to eat set out or anything, and frowns.
"Don't tell me you forgot," he calls, grabbing the bottles. "It was your turn to supply the snacks, Little brother." He grabs his keys — because he's the kind of guy to keep a bottle opener on his keychain now, who knew? — and flips the lid off of one before offering it to Nate.
Then he freezes.
"Jesus Christ, you look like shit," he says, tone caught somewhere between matter-of-fact and trying-not-to-panic.
no subject
He doesn't even bother knocking anymore before he lets himself in. He just drops his things off on the counter and gets out two bottles. He looks around, realizes there's nothing to eat set out or anything, and frowns.
"Don't tell me you forgot," he calls, grabbing the bottles. "It was your turn to supply the snacks, Little brother." He grabs his keys — because he's the kind of guy to keep a bottle opener on his keychain now, who knew? — and flips the lid off of one before offering it to Nate.
Then he freezes.
"Jesus Christ, you look like shit," he says, tone caught somewhere between matter-of-fact and trying-not-to-panic.