Sam hadn't gotten out a lot since Claire and the others had vanished. Then, he hadn't actually connected with anyone else the way he had with Claire. Until he'd started talking to Emmanuelle, anyway. It was weird, the way they'd just clicked. They'd come from very (very) different worlds. But then, Dean was always telling Sam that he belonged in a time that...wasn't this time. So maybe it wasn't so far-fetched that they get along like they did.
He held the movies in his hand as he approached the door, and the bottle of wine he'd grabbed at the store earlier that evening rested under his arm. It wasn't meant as a romantic gesture - more friendly than anything else, really - but he knew that French women liked wine. And he wanted to be polite for having taken her space for an extended period of time. He planned to leave it with her when he left, too. She'd been nice enough to give him reason to get out of the cabin (he'd definitely had a strong case of cabin fever, and when he had the whole cabin to himself, it made it tough), so he owed her that much.
Raising a hand, he knocked on the door and smoothed a hand through his hair, subconsciously straightening it out. Looking off to the side at a couple of the other cabins in the distance, Sam hoped that this wasn't a total flop. If it was, he'd probably give up on being social all together.