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[The few days it's taken to adjust have been, well - Sam is not going to use the word 'Hell' because he's actually been, and this is crappy but it doesn't come close. Still, anyone who hasn't seen him yet might be a little alarmed at what's being broadcast: six feet and four inches of sickly sasquatch, valiantly trying to address the network, appallingly pale, sallow-faced and bloodshot-sunken-eyed.]

Hey. Uh - Sam. I'm new. I guess this is a, uh, a thing that, that people do. Is introduce themselves. And I get that - we're all looking for a way out.

[Auspicious beginnings. Who knows if anyone's even getting this? Nevertheless, he continues.]

Okay. So. No promises, but there's something I can try. Kinda like a ward, or a spell. [Magic exists, surprise. The few people he's already talked to have expressed a kind of varied interest in this sort of thing, so caution be damned.] Anyone wants to help, I'll need a couple things.

First is - salt. Table salt, any kind will do. Second? Matches, a lighter, anything that can make sparks, even for a few seconds. And then I'll need something to write with, marker, pen, spray paint - I don't care. Anything along those lines.

[He looks at something off-screen, mouth briefly twisting in what might best be categorized as 'disgust'.]

I have food to trade for it. Heard that's kind of a limited resource these days. Food and, uh. [He squints at something.] Neosporin. If anyone, y'know, needs that.

[Yeah, he doesn't get it either. He jerks off frame for a moment, face buried in his elbow. It's not enough to fully stifle the ragged, fierce coughs that leave his shoulders shuddering. Finally, signs of life trickle back through the feed, albeit muffled and with their subject mostly lurched off camera as he mutters in his more characteristic deadpan, wearily sardonic, 'so-done-with-this-shit' tone.]

Also. If anyone happens to have some aspirin on them, that'd be great.

[There's the rattling of trembling, uncoordinated fingertips trying to navigate the tablet, and the feed snaps off.]

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[Sam looks down as if silently gauging the assessment. He looks up again. He looks down again.

He looks like shit.

Not really a big question of how Gold came to that conclusion.]

Yeah, okay, fair enough. I'll leave the door open.

[He cuts off the feed and stands to do so.]

Yeah there wasn't any food for the the last few weeks. It only just started appearing again.

Yeah, well, my suitcase came with a raw steak. Guess whoever runs this place has a sense of humor.

[ He knows runes, but wards and spells, those are things that warlocks play around with, not Shadowhunters, and especially not Mundanes. ]

What does this ward of yours do, exactly?

Phone an old friend.

[Did he say 'friend'? He means the other thing. 'Friend' in the non-friend sense, but also in the knowing exactly what he's getting into sense.]

Wouldn't be a ward, exactly. Just the right sigil.

[ He considers that, and the man himself, but it's obvious he's wary of both, even though there's something about him that's trying to get around his usual defences. ]

This friend of yours, he must be someone powerful if you think he can do a thing to get us all out of here.

It's not so much the result as the side effect. Magic leaves traces, and if there's anyone to pick it up, it might mean we can get help from the outside. The friend I'd be contacting would just be the, ah. Bonus.

[A very SHITTY bonus.]

[ He seems to know what he's talking about, at least, and he would like to get out of here along with everyone else. ]

All right, I'll help. But I've seen Mundanes trying to do magic before and it never ends well.

I'm not entirely certain that it'll work, but I might be able to help with fire.

Mundanes. You mean, what, like humans?

[That has the general sound and feel of 'muggle,' which Sam is not sure if he should be finding mildly offensive because, hello, lifetime of hunting supernatural shit under his belt.

But on second thought he probably doesn't look it. Especially not right now, what with the coughing and sneezing and the near-death.]

Not my first rodeo, buddy. Basically routine by now, I just have no idea if it'll work here.

There's always the odd exception to the rule, someone who might possess the sight, but, yes, mostly, humans. Or anyone who fails to see the world beyond the mundane.

[ It's matter-of-fact, but with a little arrogance thrown in for good measure, though it has nothing on how he used to be. Still, if he knew what Sam did, he would quickly change his tune. ]

I suppose we'll find out. If it means there's even the slightest chance of leaving a trail for someone to follow so they can get us out of here, then I'd be an idiot not to help. [ He looks over what he can see of him, though, and frowns. ] You're not going to die in the middle of it, though, are you? Because that'd be inconvenient.

[He can't really find it in him to rummage around for fucks to give for this guy's tone. Sam just shrugs with a general world-weary amusement like, oh if only you knew.]

Get used to 'mundane' being a lot less applicable. Everyone here's pretty much on board with the idea.

[His voice turns wry. In the vein of things that are also bullshit - ]

Long story, but I'll live. Thanks for the concern.

Desperation makes people open to a lot of things that they wouldn't usually be.

[ There's been no one but Alec who's seen the runes covering his skin, though, so either different worlds have different rules, different kinds of magic, or, well, he's not really sure on that one. ]

If you're not entirely human, there's a rune I could try, but if it doesn't agree with you, I doubt you'll enjoy the outcome.

[ He struggles with actually being nice and offering help, but if Sam only saw through the bullshit, then he'd know it's something he's putting it out there. ]

Otherwise, tell me what you need me to do and I'll see if I can.

Mm-mm. [He shakes his head.] All human. Well, now I am.

[Time was he had a soupçon of demon blood with some interesting and terrible side effects, but who knows if that's even applicable any more ~~because what is continuity~~.]

Just need fire, mostly. The other ingredients aren't proving as much of a pain.

Seriously? [the surprise on her face is evident] Well hopefully it didn't ruin anything else you got in the suitcase. [especially since their belongings are limited to that]

[Yeah, Sam is not jazzed about what he's assuming is someone's idea of a 'joke' either.]

Nothing ruined, just have no idea how I'm supposed to cook something like eight ounces of red meat.

[And with the way he's looking right now, ragged and pale and whittled away to sunken-eyed weariness, he feels like any pinkish stains of blood on his clothes would have been the least alarming thing about him.]

[ Suit yourself! Hopefully nobody finds him dead in his hotel room. Last thing they need is bodies dropping from some unknown sickness.

She tilts her head thoughtfully. ] How do you pick up magical signatures? Is it like some feeling that you get, like when the hairs on the back of your neck stand up? Or is there a device for that kind of thing?

[ Asking the important questions, obviously. ]

[That seems a bit of an odd priority, and is also a question that has actualfacts never come up in a lifetime of hunting.

Sam doesn't entirely know how to respond to that.

He rubs his arm.]

Uhh, you know, I've never asked. I think it's more of a sixth sense thing. Demons, angels, they seem to pick it up no problem.

[ That seems like something someone would've thought to ask about. Good thing she's around.

She hums. ] So if this works, we're either going to be found by demons or angels.

[ She's torn. On the one hand, she's not sure if she wants to believe the whole magic/demons/angels thing. On the other hand, her next door neighbor is apparently an alien from the future and she had no problem believing that, soooo.

Whatever, she's just gonna go with it. ] You can understand why I might be a little concerned by that. [ The demons, that is. The angels would probably be okay. ]

[Cue an incredibly abashed, apologetic wince. Yyyyyyeah, Sam realizes this not his best idea ever.]

Or, or not. I mean, there are plenty of other things out there.

[That was meant to be reassuring and came out less reassuring than he wanted it to.]

It would be a risk no matter who picked it up. But it's not like we've got a lotta other options here.

No, I agree. We don't have a lot of options. I think it's worth a shot.

[ Even if there is the possibility of demons or something equally as worse finding them. It can't possibly be worse than whatever these people decide to throw at them next.

Besides, her dad is practically Satan. ]

But just out of curiosity — what other things?

[ Please, enlighten her on what else there is besides angels and demons. Her vigilantes pale in comparison, honestly. ]

Um.

[There is a lot ~~and continuity is like not even a thing~~ and Sam quite frankly doesn't know where to begin.]

Well, there're some friends of mine that might be on the lookout - hunter networks generally keep each other updated.

[Assuming the people he knows are still alive BUT ANYWAY]

In terms of the other? There's stuff like - witches. Spirits. Anything above the human pay-grade, basically.

[ Wow, she can totally tell you're on top of this whole thing, Sam. Lots of Um-ing and uncertainty. ]

I'm just going to assume that you don't mean deer hunting. [ Because, somehow, that's what would be weird. ] So you and your friends deal with this sort of stuff a lot? Angels and demons and such?

[ Now she's sort of glad that all she has to deal with is the League of Assassins. ]

We've done the whole spirit thing here. Were you here for that? All the guilt-tripping ghosts hanging around?

[To be fair, his head is pounding like it's just gone ten rounds against a cement truck. And lost.]

No, yeah, like - demon hunting. Monsters, anything that, y'know, thinks it's cool to kill people. That's pretty much what I did for a living. [Grimace.] Wasn't there for it, but I'm getting the impression that this isn't your typical hotel. If it happens again, at least salt's a good countermeasure. Keeps ghosts out.

So you're one of the good guys. [ A hero, like her brother and Roy and basically almost everybody else she knows that isn't her dad. She smiles. ] That's good to know.

Well, typical hotels have front doors, soooo. [ Definitely not your typical hotel, no. ] Salt keeps ghosts away. [ Seems legit...? ] I'll remember that.

['Good guys' seems pretty relative. But mentioning 'by the way I started the Apocalypse' or 'so you know Lucifer? He possessed me this one time and it was really kind of bad news bears' seems like the wrong foot to start off on. And not everything is about guilt and whatnot so, cool, Sam's going to aggressively not think about that.]

Salt, yeah. And typical hotels also don't have a staff that never shows up, exploding Easter eggs, and a penchant for cutting food without warning. [Ticking these off on his fingers.] Did I get that all covered?

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