While packing his "unnecessary necessities" (as Alex placed it.), it was obvious that something didn't feel right to Darren Elderidge… no matter how many times he lied, "I'm fine." That false statement was (still is) followed by at least one of the present Winchester sisters. For a while, Sammy and Jack were even keeping a tally on how many times each asked him what's wrong… in their own style, of course.

Jack's skater-style results in the very, very emotional and heartfelt, "What's up, man?" questionings. But those paled (no pun intended) to the overly zealous and over-insinuating Sammy-isms of "You need to vent?"Let us not forget, my dear friends, Tracey's moving words of, "What's your problem, now?" And, Alex's very empathetic, "Get over yourself!" Oh, finally (but not the least at all!), the totally rood, irresponsible, and apathetic, "What's wrong? Can I help?" HOW DARE SHE?! (Please, someone, get the ϋber-thick sarcasm! For the sake of intellect and knowledge, please!)

So, all of the girls (excluding her royal highness, of course) were curious as to the problem bugging their knight in… teal cloth thing, latex gloves, medial mask, and dead people blood?... armor. Some more than others asked him… and asked more often… okay, LOUIE was asking him the most! "How many times has it been, Sammy?" asks Jack as he watches her other sister approach the paranoid-acting mortician.

"For Fretter?" asks Sammy nonchalantly. Jack chuckles and nods in response and Sammy adds, "Louie has… Thirty-six."

"How about some five-card stud?" asks Jack. Sammy just nods and they both walk over to Lucy's tailgate where they have left their deck.

Louie sits in the back portion of the mortician's Jeep Cherokee making an excellent point to be in the way of his useless and mindless packing. He shuns eye-contact until she finally places her hand on his left forearm to grab his attention. "How many times?' asks Louie. (Man, she should have been a speech speaker.) "How many times have I asked you what's wrong and you've lied 'I'm fine Louie… really.'?" Darren's answer is a shrug and a semi-sly grin, "the rumor is the non-twin twins are keeping score." He tips his head in Jack and Sammy's direction. As if they were psychic, the stated pair smile and wave.

"Did she ask again?!" yells Jack, her usual grin plastered on her face.

""No, I didn't!" hollers back Louie. (… And, no, this isn't a reference to a Gwen Stafani song… Tweens. TT)

A set of disappointed ah's seep from the bed of Lucy, followed by twin-like giggles.

"That makes it still thirty-six!" calls out Sammy.

"Thank you, Sammy!" shouts Darren with a slight smirk on his face once more.

"HEY!" a pair of simultaneous voices shout from the "card playing area".



"Okay. Thank you, Sammy AND JACK!" he laughs/ shouts back.

"THANK YOU and…" starts Sammy.

Jack finishes with, "… You're WEL-COME!"

Both blow kisses and giggle once more like the mischievous pair they are.

"Jack and Sam, you learn to love 'em," quotes Louie.

"Your father?" asks Darren who then quickly darts his eyes away when he sees in her chocolate eyes an expression just begging to be voiced… this would say, "You're an idiot."

"No!" laughs Louie, her eyes change with her tone. "It's partially from 'The Lion King'! …To quote off of the filmmaker, 'My lord! You ARE deprived, aren't ya?!'"

Darren chuckles, "That does seem to sound like something like she'd say… or yell."

"You have no idea, Darren," say Louie. She gently grabs his left wrist and they meet eyes. His nervous pale blue have a hard time staying with her cold yet welcoming chocolaty pair. "Darren, I have had to live with five other women… We all say the same exact thing when we're avoiding any confrontation with… with what's really gnawing at us. Usually, Darren, this is when one needs to talk about it the most… or else, it'll fester, you know?" she says and gives a quiet smile to help fill the pause. "You're a mortician, you should know about how bad festering is!" she jokes. Darren nods and slightly chuckles at her joke.

It was obvious that his formaldehyde-laced brain cells had been gaining speed as Louie started to her very rare "speech". The firing brain cells seemed to never cease their acceleration (nether speeding up nor slowing down) as he began to nod through his own thoughts. Finally, his mouth opened and words were articulated in a slow but thoughtful manner… just like the thinker he is would be expected to speak. "I'm… afraid, Louie," he begins finally meeting her eyes once more. His voice is low, so only Louie could have a chance to hear it. He looks over to the hood of Lucy where Alex and Tracy are discussing … well, SOMETHING. Then, he looks over to the bed of Lucy where Sammy and Jack have been playing five-card stud… with post-its showing what their bets are. Undoubtedly, this was a reference to some show or movie they had viewed… at least once... and loved. Finally, Darren turns to Louie once again, "I also feel… guilty… I mean, did Professor Robertson really deserve the way he died?" finally asks Darren.

His expression changes as he observes the "meek" Louie's transform into a very sinister and frightening guise. Her face has become hard and barely readable. The warmth that once occupied her delightful eyes is now just plain cold, black, and … almost dull. Her shoulder are pulled back to show the aggression that shouldn't have the necessity to be shown, not from such a sweet person. This expression translates to, "No pity." HIS face reacts with a more grim appearance. (… Wait, Is that even possible to see on a mortician?)



"Did Bob deserve it?" Louie almost hisses, Practically spitting when uttering the corpse's name. (Good thing his name wasn't "Steve" or "Seth", huh?") She turns to Jack and Sammy. "Jack!" she yells. Jack's dyed hair whips around in its semi-motley and mostly messy jaunt. It's blonde streak is now mixed with the soft black. "Come here, will ya?" sweetly/darkly asks Louie.