Sam Winchester had been feeling all of three things lately: confused, exhausted, and paranoid. It was more than unsettling for the man who had once been dubbed as a walking human encyclopedia to have formed the habit of forgetting. One moment he'd be digging through his belongings, the next he'd be standing just outside of his room without any idea as to how or why he was there to begin with. Blank slots in his memory, along with the aches, were far from what he was used to dealing with. It had never been a problem before. Yet, slowly but surely, it was indeed something that had surfaced lately. Sam was half convinced that they were putting something in his food or altering his medication somehow. There had to be something that was completely off in his daily routine - why else would he be feeling so strangely?
There were other options, of course, which was why Sam had long since decided that he needed to start taking extra precautions. While the search for the salt thief was still ongoing, Sam found that he needed something a bit more replaceable to take up residency within his room so that he'd be able to protect himself from any unwanted intrusion. As such, he had successfully managed to tape several pieces of drawing paper together into a large square. Across each paper, there were various markings, practically drawn to perfection in order to form what Sam liked to call a Devil's Trap. It was a portable one, sort of. He could fold it up and carry it with him if need be. For now, he just settled on placing it at his door at night before he went to bed. It wasn't nearly enough - the windows were still unprotected, after all - but it was a start.
That start hadn't quite reached it's finish though, which was why when Jo decided to knock at his door, Sam had been sitting on the floor drawing across several more sheets of paper. The traps he happened to be focused on now were a bit smaller; each trap fit onto a single sheet of paper, as that was the only way that Sam was going to be able to cram several of the mini sized traps onto the smaller window sill without having to resort to flat out drawing on the walls. Sam imagined that the orderlies wouldn't be too fond of that - otherwise, without a doubt, he would have scribbled all over the damn place. He had been halfway considering saying to hell with it and doing so anyway, but the sudden knock at his door drew Sam's attention away from the thought. For the time being, at least. Pushing himself onto his feet, Sam brushed some of his dark hair out his eyes and cautiously moved toward the door. Reaching for the handle, he pulled it open a crack and peered out through the tiny opening.