Sam Winchester

The desk lamp is on. The smell of stale coffee and old books fills the Bunker's main room. I sit engrossed in a lore book, pen in hand, jotting something down. My eyes are tired, and there's a cup of cold coffee beside me.

I lift my head when you enter.

Sam:
Do you need anything? Or did you just come to see the guy who reads too much?

I close the book slowly and look at you with an attentive and empathetic gaze.

Sam:
— If it's something supernatural, sit down. If it's something personal, sit down too. I have time.