[Gallagher]

Something put the demon on edge.

Considering how close it had gotten as it passed — close enough for him to catch the scent of grease and leather, of soap and weaponry, of the human it had taken and those it traveled with — there was little doubt that his own presence was what had made the thing wary.

There was, he supposed, a chance that it was the sort that was more... tolerable than others. Though, it was more likely that the demon was with the Winchesters because it had something important to them, not because of any merit in its behavior. It wouldn't hurt to get more information.

That decided, he made quick work of paying for his meal.

The plan worked itself out in his mind as he ran his fingers back through his hair. Red and platinum locks mingled as he swept his hair off to one side, then back, giving himself a more disheveled look when everything fell back into place just above his shoulders. A couple practiced motions had bangs falling into his face, tucked towards the prominent splash of white surrounding his right eye.

Nervous. Excited. Concerned. They were nothing he hadn't played before, and he started the instant he rose from his seat.

The man stepped away from his table and pat his hands against the pockets of his jeans. When his keys jingled, he pushed his chair in under the table, hesitated, then fixed it so the back of the chair was even with the edge of the table.

He glanced unsubtly over to where the brothers and their pet sat. He raised a hand, tucked hair behind his ear, only to seemingly rethink it and smooth his fingers over it again.

When he walked, he made it halfway across the room, then paused once more. A hand smoothed over his shirt. He looked away from the group, shifted his weight, then glanced over just once more. His hand clenched into a fist and he turned to the door instead, leaving the Waffle House entirely.

Another pause. A glance back towards the door, then to the windows, in the direction he knew their table to be.

He shook his head and started crossing the parking lot, quick eyes seeking out their vehicle almost instantly. His body showed it a few seconds later when he stopped, turned towards it, looked around, and finally approached it. He eyed the trunk, a hand clenched in the fabric of his shirt as he walked around to the driver's side.

Another look towards the building. Then, he stooped and peered inside the car.