She looked like crap, and that was saying it nicely. Dean stood by the door for a second.
Donna wasn't much like he'd imagined the Doctor's fuck buddy to look like (ignoring the whole...ass kicked by some psycho doctor part). Not only that, but she had to have some of the worst luck he'd ever seen to get picked out of everyone for those "sleep studies". He couldn't help staring at the mess of bandages covering her partially shaved head as he headed toward her, taking a seat next to her and remembering right at the last moment not to flop down like he normally would. He knew that look. It wasn't exactly the I've-got-a-hangover look, but way he figured it, the less jostling around, the better. Same probably went with loud noises.
When Dean spoke, his voice was lowered, “Don’t suppose they gave you something for that,” he said with a sympathetic grin, gesturing at all over her. There wasn’t one thing in particular he could point at. Donna’s head was probably killig her and those ritualistic cuts on the back of her hands were deep. He still couldn’t identify what the markings meant. They looked like something you’d use in a cult or some kind of summoning, except cutting that kind of thing into your flesh wasn’t that usual for summoning.
Still, he figured there was one plus to this. Donna was alive, which was really something to shoot for when you were surrounded by spirits and bloodsuckers. Usually there weren’t much in the way of survivors.
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Donna wasn't much like he'd imagined the Doctor's fuck buddy to look like (ignoring the whole...ass kicked by some psycho doctor part). Not only that, but she had to have some of the worst luck he'd ever seen to get picked out of everyone for those "sleep studies". He couldn't help staring at the mess of bandages covering her partially shaved head as he headed toward her, taking a seat next to her and remembering right at the last moment not to flop down like he normally would. He knew that look. It wasn't exactly the I've-got-a-hangover look, but way he figured it, the less jostling around, the better. Same probably went with loud noises.
When Dean spoke, his voice was lowered, “Don’t suppose they gave you something for that,” he said with a sympathetic grin, gesturing at all over her. There wasn’t one thing in particular he could point at. Donna’s head was probably killig her and those ritualistic cuts on the back of her hands were deep. He still couldn’t identify what the markings meant. They looked like something you’d use in a cult or some kind of summoning, except cutting that kind of thing into your flesh wasn’t that usual for summoning.
Still, he figured there was one plus to this. Donna was alive, which was really something to shoot for when you were surrounded by spirits and bloodsuckers. Usually there weren’t much in the way of survivors.