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Joanna Beth Harvelle (reoismyantidrug) wrote in entrywaythreads,

"Personal demons don't exactly take a starring role in my life. They're more like a backstage setup needed to keep the top-billed diva happy and calm," she quipped, smirking ever so slightly as she thought about it herself. The things that happened in her life and in her mind could probably accurately be attributed to some kind of soap opera, really. It'd be supernatural in nature, but still apt.

With the appearance of a very metal hand, Jo's eyebrow raised and she didn't bother hiding her interest in the new arrival. It wasn't something she'd seen before in her lifetime and so it was curious.

After a moment, she turned her attention back to her alcohol and the conversation at hand.

... at hand... she couldn't help but snort at that one.

Clearing her throat, she ran her own very flesh-covered hand through her hair and took another pull of her beer. "Favorite? I don't know that I really have a favorite, but the vindictiveness in me would probably say Rawhead. And if I ever get my hands on a hellhound, I'd probably take great pleasure in that."

A Rawhead caused her father's death (though some would say that blame belonged with John Winchester) and a hellhound was responsible for her own. So there was that nifty little twinge of serotonin every time she killed one (or imagined she could kill one).