Mischief and Mayhem

He is shaking now, but he isn’t cold. He fastens shackles around his wrists, his fingers fumble with the key. This is a stupid idea, this is his only idea. His only hope of surviving.The weight of the shackles is familiar, like an old friend. The creak of the cage door, like a song he knows by heart. He tosses the key into one of the nearby fires, hoping that it will be lost in the ashes.He looks enough like a prisoner, like a human, that it could work. It could save his life. Or he’s cornered and chained himself, but it isn’t as though Tommy would stand a chance against demon hunters anyway