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Gretel (_gretel) wrote,

Gretel wouldn't have had the foggiest idea what a 'spank bank' was if she hadn't met a certain man with the last name of Winchester, probably sleeping off his own bottle of Scotch right now in his room. And lucky her, the modern hunter had used the phrase in the same context as this newcomer. Who was obviously going through the normal 'what the fuck' stages of finding themselves here... and who still didn't have his hands up.

No, she hadn't planned on shooting him right out the gate, but she sure as hell would if he went for that gun she could see peeking out from his belt.

"No, you're not dead-" The Yet was faintly implied in her voice, and the steady aim she had on his head. "I'd rather not make you that way, either- but there are a lot more people here a lot less polite than me who won't take kindly to someone eating their share of that ice cream- so let me lay this out for you as plainly as possible. You don't remember how you got here, and you don't know how to get back to where you came from, right?"

As a show of somewhat good will, Gretel lowered her cast iron and wood weapon to belly-level- though her half-gloved finger was still on the trigger. She nodded at his belt, but kept her eyes trained on his face. He had a wild look... like a crazed king. This might be tricky. "Take the bullets out of that thing, put them in your pocket, and we'll go from there."