[ On one of the pews near the front of the open church, two figures sat. One, dark-haired in a trench coat, sitting straight and contemplatinve, while the other, lighter-haired in a rumpled jacket leaned his head on the other's shoulder.

Or perhaps they're just looking around, going about their own ways, looking at the stained glass and watching those who come and go... ]



(( OOC: Joint post for Castiel and Gabriel! The thread between them is closed, but do tag in and just say which angel you'd like to talk to! ))

How the hell did I get into this mess, huh Salty?

[ Dean bends down and scratches Salty's head, looking around the shooting range. He had hoped that Acumen would have a sign-out for the guns, but apparently that was a no go. Shit, how the hell was he supposed to get back into practice without a gun?


He felt like he was getting rusty after all that time spent not wanting to go back home. Not that he wanted to go back, but he'd as good as promised that he would. Really, this whole thing sucked and Cas still wasn't talking to him. He needed to fix that. Sam at least, he was doing marginally better. Things were just really not working out for him lately. ]

((ooc: you can catch him randomly walking Salty from Sector 3 to 6 via the park if you'd prefer to catch him there. Backdated to afternoon))

MASS MAILERS

• To everyone: a flier from Kohran Li.

[PM is on the prowl.]

[The mail has been very slow lately, and while she chalks it up to the heat and humans not wanting to sweat all over their letters, she can only take so much idleness with her work.]

[This is why PM decided to stick a cooler in her mail cart. She intends to hand out popsicles and ice cream bars, along with brochures about the post office. Surely a treat like that will move hearts and writing utensils!]

[That or she'll just get mobbed by children. One of the two.]

[Click here for pen pal signups. Mail submissions for Day 124 go here!]

[It's been a long time since they've felt stirrings like these. There's a restlessness in their movements, the subtle, minor twitches of a caged animal. Anger simmers and throbs underneath their skin, and anyone who walks through the park will see the cruel and angry gouges within the earth and trees that marks their passing.]

Have you ever killed before, fellow inmates? If so, what did it feel like to you? [They truly want to know, and though there might be a grin on their face, their expression is pensive.]

((OOC: Potential for fights here, if you tick 'em off enough! Fair warning. <3))