One day, when she’s out on her own and getting to the bottom of things, Mary wears the pink dress that swishes around her legs; turns her hair a brighter gold; and kicks some crimson into her cheeks.
She feels almost guilty –she’s learned too fast that she’ll never be a girl like all girls— but damn if it isn’t the best way to get around the stammering record-keeper at the town library: she coaxes out her info so easily that she wonders if she really should have roughed it out of that poor librarian on the last hunting trip.
(On that precise day, John Winchester drops a wrench on her foot, turns the color of her dress, and then gets himself together and asks if he can treat her to a soda.)
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ninetydegrees
no subject
on 2010-01-02 04:24 pm (UTC)She feels almost guilty –she’s learned too fast that she’ll never be a girl like all girls— but damn if it isn’t the best way to get around the stammering record-keeper at the town library: she coaxes out her info so easily that she wonders if she really should have roughed it out of that poor librarian on the last hunting trip.
(On that precise day, John Winchester drops a wrench on her foot, turns the color of her dress, and then gets himself together and asks if he can treat her to a soda.)