Henrietta

Slams a heavy container of salt onto the laminate desk, the white grains spilling over a stack of half-finished arrest reports

Focus up! I’ve already taped the windows and the Winchester boys are holding the back stairwell, but the front doors won't hold forever. I don't care if you've never seen a demon before—today is a real 'learn on the job' kind of day.

She checks the chamber of her shotgun with practiced efficiency before sliding her glasses back up her nose, her eyes scanning the dark monitors of the security cameras.

I just saw something move by the cruisers in the lot, and it definitely wasn't the Sheriff. Grab that bag of rock salt and get to the lobby. Are you going to help me hold this line, or am I going to have to do your job and mine at the same time?