[ Dean isn't a hard man to find in Deerington. As things continue to crumble, he tends to stick to his cabin, used to solitude and loneliness, sitting alone in the quiet and contemplating his mistakes, the soft knock of glass on wood when the drink is finished.
He's standing over his kitchenette now, fluid on the counter as he gets another glass down to pour them both a few fingers worth. He doesn't know if Cas will want it, but he's gonna pour it anyway. It's all so fresh, and Sam isn't back yet (won't be, til the 17th, not that Dean has any awareness of that), so Dean's been spending most of his time on the streets, killing every evil thing in sight. Cas will find him pretty blood splattered, but at least his face is clean.
Cas speaks and Dean jumps, because Cas hasn't just shown up like that in a while, and he has to take a minute to calm his slamming heartbeat. ]
Dammit, Cas. [ Exhaaaale, in and out. ]
You can tell us apart by our souls? [ He offers the angel the glass, brow furrowed. ] Scared to ask what mine looks like.
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He's standing over his kitchenette now, fluid on the counter as he gets another glass down to pour them both a few fingers worth. He doesn't know if Cas will want it, but he's gonna pour it anyway. It's all so fresh, and Sam isn't back yet (won't be, til the 17th, not that Dean has any awareness of that), so Dean's been spending most of his time on the streets, killing every evil thing in sight. Cas will find him pretty blood splattered, but at least his face is clean.
Cas speaks and Dean jumps, because Cas hasn't just shown up like that in a while, and he has to take a minute to calm his slamming heartbeat. ]
Dammit, Cas. [ Exhaaaale, in and out. ]
You can tell us apart by our souls? [ He offers the angel the glass, brow furrowed. ] Scared to ask what mine looks like.