Bobby was looking through his books. Again. He'd been at it for a while now, hoping he could find a reason to call Sam with good news. He hadn't spoken to the boy in a long time.
He was concentrating so hard, that when his phone rang he almost jumped out of his skin.
"Singer's Salvage Yard," he greeted.
"Bobby Singer. It's been a while."
"Bela?" Bobby frowned.
"Yes, Bela. I'd like to kno if you could help me with a little something..."
"You got the Colt?"
"Excuse me?"
"Don't expect my help until you get that Colt back in our hands, missy."
"Look, Bobby, I don't know what the Winchesters told you..."
"That you sold the only weapon we had against an army of demons? Why would that possibly be a lie when you were willing to kill Sam for Lilith?"
"You're right, it wasn't a lie," Bela admitted, "but the buyer is a very hard person to track down."
"So tell him you've got something else just as good or better. Put the word out among your clients."
"It's not that easy-"
"Then forget about my help," Bobby said, slamming the phone down and taking it off the hook again.