Sam frowned, trying to figure out the best way to prop up the flashlight so that it'd actually be any good. In the end, he concluded that there was no other option except to have someone hold the light. He held out one of the flashlights for Dean to take.
"Yeah, I think." He paused, reconsidered the dim lighting. "No," he admitted, setting the other flashlight on the dresser so that it pointed in their general direction. "But it'll do."
It wasn't a well-lit room, but he wasn't working blind, either. That was probably the best they they'd get.
He'd been intending to use a beaker to store the ink in until the ghost had interrupted and he'd ended up leaving it behind. The mortar seemed excessively large so he rummaged through Dean's closet and came up with the lid on a milk jug. He eyed it for a moment.
It had potential.
Sam tore few strips of cloth from the bedsheet behind him—hopefully, Dean's roommate wouldn't mind—and dumped everything onto the table he'd pulled in close, then broke the needle off the syringe before dousing everything in alcohol.
It occurred to him, for a split second, that this was probably a really, really bad idea in the long Winchester list of bad ideas, but he chose not to contemplate this too long. Instead, he dug out the roll of pens. He cracked two, decided they didn't need more ink than that for this. It wasn't going to be particularly large or complicated. Mostly, he just wanted to trace something sufficient to keep a demon from riding his brother and hope none of this screwed up. Yeah, it was technically just a tattoo, but in his experience, there was always way too much that could go wrong with anything they did even when they knew what they were doing.
Sam honestly had no idea what the hell he was doing. But he figured maybe he shouldn't tell Dean that. He knew what to do in theory, so...those were some points in their favour.
He uncapped one of the remaining pens and sketched a rough design onto Dean's chest. Nothing fancy, just the pentacle inside a triangle. Basic devil's trap. Easier and different from the one he had which was a bonus. He wouldn't have a problem with matching outside of here, but when they were trying to avoid letting too many people know they were anything more than friends—carrying identical tattoos wasn't the way to do that.
With no sink nearby to wash his hands—the bathrooms weren't far, but they were far enough to make the trip a bit of a risk, what with a spirit having followed them around and all—Sam simply used the alcohol.
He picked up the needle and let out a breath. "Okay. Ready?"
He didn't wait for an answer, just made the first puncture and didn't pause. Sooner they got this over with, the better. It'd be extremely bad if they all mysteriously blacked out again before he was done.
no subject
"Yeah, I think." He paused, reconsidered the dim lighting. "No," he admitted, setting the other flashlight on the dresser so that it pointed in their general direction. "But it'll do."
It wasn't a well-lit room, but he wasn't working blind, either. That was probably the best they they'd get.
He'd been intending to use a beaker to store the ink in until the ghost had interrupted and he'd ended up leaving it behind. The mortar seemed excessively large so he rummaged through Dean's closet and came up with the lid on a milk jug. He eyed it for a moment.
It had potential.
Sam tore few strips of cloth from the bedsheet behind him—hopefully, Dean's roommate wouldn't mind—and dumped everything onto the table he'd pulled in close, then broke the needle off the syringe before dousing everything in alcohol.
It occurred to him, for a split second, that this was probably a really, really bad idea in the long Winchester list of bad ideas, but he chose not to contemplate this too long. Instead, he dug out the roll of pens. He cracked two, decided they didn't need more ink than that for this. It wasn't going to be particularly large or complicated. Mostly, he just wanted to trace something sufficient to keep a demon from riding his brother and hope none of this screwed up. Yeah, it was technically just a tattoo, but in his experience, there was always way too much that could go wrong with anything they did even when they knew what they were doing.
Sam honestly had no idea what the hell he was doing. But he figured maybe he shouldn't tell Dean that. He knew what to do in theory, so...those were some points in their favour.
He uncapped one of the remaining pens and sketched a rough design onto Dean's chest. Nothing fancy, just the pentacle inside a triangle. Basic devil's trap. Easier and different from the one he had which was a bonus. He wouldn't have a problem with matching outside of here, but when they were trying to avoid letting too many people know they were anything more than friends—carrying identical tattoos wasn't the way to do that.
With no sink nearby to wash his hands—the bathrooms weren't far, but they were far enough to make the trip a bit of a risk, what with a spirit having followed them around and all—Sam simply used the alcohol.
He picked up the needle and let out a breath. "Okay. Ready?"
He didn't wait for an answer, just made the first puncture and didn't pause. Sooner they got this over with, the better. It'd be extremely bad if they all mysteriously blacked out again before he was done.