Okay, that wasn't in the script. Sam's eyebrows rose a bit, hoping his visible surprise would be enough to cover up whatever tension resulted on instinct from the realization that he was with something not exactly human.
There was a second or so of silence. "Human lifetime?" he asked finally, words careful, but still casual enough and pushing the curious edge through to avoid simply sounding as if he were suspicious. He didn't know what the hell could be going on here, but there was no point in shutting communication down.
Though he was just a little more baffled than he might've been under other circumstances. Because...what the hell was Wolfram first of all. He didn't seem like a demon. Demons didn't just slip up like that and Sam got the sense that the slip hadn't been on purpose. Unless he was seriously being played here, but he suspected probably not. Demons could be subtle if they put their minds to it, but they weren't this subtle, either. Which really left very little in terms of other options. There wasn't a lot out there that resembled a living human. Shapeshifter? Not likely. They were made to blend in; it wouldn't out itself in such a clumsy manner.
Then again, there was a goddess here in the guise of a teenage girl. The notion of second demigod wasn't...impossible, but it was still somewhat farfetched. Having even one of them here was odd enough. How did a demigod even get caught? There was a reason why they were gods, after all. His only explanation was that the goddess had chosen to be here on her own; that, though, only served to open up a whole new can of questions as to why.
Honestly, Sam wasn't sure what to make of anything anymore. It bothered him, on a certain level, how even the rules of the supernatural were starting to spiral out of his control in this place. He just—he needed patterns. Patterns, he could work with. It was the one thing he'd always fallen back on even under the most screwed up situations.
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Okay, that wasn't in the script. Sam's eyebrows rose a bit, hoping his visible surprise would be enough to cover up whatever tension resulted on instinct from the realization that he was with something not exactly human.
There was a second or so of silence. "Human lifetime?" he asked finally, words careful, but still casual enough and pushing the curious edge through to avoid simply sounding as if he were suspicious. He didn't know what the hell could be going on here, but there was no point in shutting communication down.
Though he was just a little more baffled than he might've been under other circumstances. Because...what the hell was Wolfram first of all. He didn't seem like a demon. Demons didn't just slip up like that and Sam got the sense that the slip hadn't been on purpose. Unless he was seriously being played here, but he suspected probably not. Demons could be subtle if they put their minds to it, but they weren't this subtle, either. Which really left very little in terms of other options. There wasn't a lot out there that resembled a living human. Shapeshifter? Not likely. They were made to blend in; it wouldn't out itself in such a clumsy manner.
Then again, there was a goddess here in the guise of a teenage girl. The notion of second demigod wasn't...impossible, but it was still somewhat farfetched. Having even one of them here was odd enough. How did a demigod even get caught? There was a reason why they were gods, after all. His only explanation was that the goddess had chosen to be here on her own; that, though, only served to open up a whole new can of questions as to why.
Honestly, Sam wasn't sure what to make of anything anymore. It bothered him, on a certain level, how even the rules of the supernatural were starting to spiral out of his control in this place. He just—he needed patterns. Patterns, he could work with. It was the one thing he'd always fallen back on even under the most screwed up situations.