Bar. Darling Sammy, confronted with the fact that he'll have to discuss slutty El Deano's fornicating ways with a priest in order to secure Father Sneaky's assistance, hems and haws and stutters and stammers and stumbles all over his own words until at last he admits that Dean and Casey left the bar together, and they haven't been seen since, and they're not at her apartment or his motel, and Sam's really getting worried about them, so could Father Sneaky please let Sam know if Casey's got some other place in town where she might be entertaining one of her many, many gentleman callers? "Yes, there is a place," Father Sneaky answers without hesitation. "Let me get my jacket," he begins, but Darling Sammy, deploying those Super-Special Puppy-Dog Eyes Of Religious Seduction, hastily assures Father Sneaky that he doesn't want to put the good man out, and that he can track down his brother on his own. "Son," Father Sneaky replies, brooking no dissent, "if Casey's really in trouble, then there's nothing to talk about." And with that, he rises to fetch his coat.
A short moment later, with his back to Darling Sammy, Father Sneaky settles his jacket around his shoulders and...lets his eyes flip beetle black! DUN! "Zzzzzz...what?! What's that!? Did I miss something?!" The priest is evil, Raoul. "Pffft! I knew that when he scared the poor nun! Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!" As Raoul collapses back into an immediate deep sleep, Demonic Father Sneaky allows his eyes to clear, offers blurry Sam in the background of the shot a calm, "Shall we go?" and steps forward into the METAL TEETH CHOMP!
The Admittedly Pointless Wine Cellar Of My Endless Despair And BOREDOM And DOOM And Jesus Christ, Will They Not Shut UP? Demonic Casey's fallen for Dear El Deano's many charms, and coos at him while cartoon hearts erupt into the air around her body and spin about her head. Next!
Catholic Cadillac. Demonic Father Sneaky's fallen for Darling Sammy's many charms, and coos at him while cartoon hearts erupt into the air around his body and spin about his head. Okay, not really, but he's coming awfully close to being the sort of priest who pretends to get his jollies by startling unsuspecting nuns while actually getting his jollies by fondling remarkably broad-shouldered and healthy 24-year-olds in the front seat of the parish sedan. Oh, don't look at me like that. You think that kind doesn't exist? In the meantime, the two gentlemen make supposed small-talk about the insurance business, with Demonic Father Feely all the while trying to get into Sam's pants. Sorry! Sorry! My bad. He's actually trying to trap Sam into admitting he's really a hunter, or the human king of Hell, or something. Sam maintains both his reserve and his cover story, however, so it's back to...