Rick's 'bet' got Sam smiling again. “Together again, for the first time? 'You and me, right up there with the world's greatest pairs!' I'm very good at being offensive. You might've noticed I'm fond of four-letter words.” Joking aside, she turned to Rick and offered her hand to shake.

“That's quite a list you've got.” It really was... and despite the ostensible outlandishness of it, Sam didn't disbelieve it. The world was fucking weird, and anyone---including the people who had seen and heard enough to be sure nothing would surprise 'em at all anymore---would scratch the surface, at best. Most people probably just skimmed along that surface, buffered by schemas, expectations, assumptions. She had her own, sure... but she had also had something like a pivotal epiphany (and a little like a breakdown of some sort) on a bad January morning, and had scratched, instead of skimming, ever since. “A couple ghosts, a demon, some asshat my godson'd call a lich, probably, that demon again, thanks to the lich. Coming back to the crowbar... a lot of things don't like iron, right? So when you've got an iron bar with a point on the end and grip tape in the middle, you're readier for those things.”