Sam rarely spoke of the times he’d been possessed. He hated thinking about it. Each time had been different and sometimes more terrible than the last, but the thing that stuck with him after each time - that never really left him, was the complete and utter loss of control. It was something Sam had struggled with long before his first possession, having no control over his own life under the military like upbringing he endured from his father and then each and every time he’d tried to seize it back. Always ending up back on the path that had always been laid out for him - by his father or by heaven, it hardly mattered. All that did matter was the feeling of helplessness, not unlike the feelings that had driven him to the bottle this time.
He smirked and tilted his glass towards John. “Here’s to you then, your holiness.” He said, draining his glass and setting it down on the bar. Then he glanced at what John had been working on, noting with interest the etchings he was making in the glass. “What is that?” He asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.