This one coincides with an earlier drabble, "Don't Mess With PMS" :) Feel free to read it before you read this one, if you haven't already :P Word: Unfortunate. #ofwords: 100! Enjoy! :)
"Duty calls."
She brushes past him roughly, moving over to a recently vacated table. As she begins to clear away the dishes, he snickers, walking away with that damned cocky air about him.
Her stomach aches, her head throbs; she wants so badly to chuck something at his fat head. Again.
Her blade is still wobbling, wedged into the wall when she'd thrown it. Missed.
How unfortunate.
"Chicks. So touchy." Dean rolls his eyes, sitting down beside Sam at the bar.
He hears the shout of rage, turns just as Jo flings her tray.
This time, her aim is perfect.
:)