( Something Lucifer may or may not begin to pick up on — this particular Winchester isn't quite as worn down as the one he saw last. He's missing five or so years, give or take, in the lines around his eyes and the hardness in his expression.
Also lacking: the level of recognition he should probably have when he looks up and processes who he's looking at. Just a little too wide-eyed, just a little too taken aback. One second too long before he does what he does and bounces back, closes off, tenses up.
You gotta be god damn kidding him.
There's no friggin' way. Yanking him and Cas out of Purgatory is one thing, but reaching down into the cage? It puts a tilt on just exactly how powerful he thought the magic here was. Cranks it to eleven.
For a second, he very nearly goes to reach under the counter for something — angel blade, shotgun — just to remember where they are. What this place is. Who's domain they're in. Slowly, deliberately, he sets his palm back down on the counter top. Rises silently to his feet.
And visibly bristles at the mention of Sam — probably tips his hand a little that there's something going on there. A more sensitive button than just who the breadwinner is.
Obviously he's not gonna answer that question. Instead, he nods his head in Lucifer's direction — specifically, at the sign above his collarbone. )
Little on the nose, don't you think?
( Dean's own is stitched onto the breast pocket of his plaid flannel, could easily be passed off as the symbol of the shirt brand if you didn't know any better. Surprising probably no one: The Lovers. )
no subject
Also lacking: the level of recognition he should probably have when he looks up and processes who he's looking at. Just a little too wide-eyed, just a little too taken aback. One second too long before he does what he does and bounces back, closes off, tenses up.
You gotta be god damn kidding him.
There's no friggin' way. Yanking him and Cas out of Purgatory is one thing, but reaching down into the cage? It puts a tilt on just exactly how powerful he thought the magic here was. Cranks it to eleven.
For a second, he very nearly goes to reach under the counter for something — angel blade, shotgun — just to remember where they are. What this place is. Who's domain they're in. Slowly, deliberately, he sets his palm back down on the counter top. Rises silently to his feet.
And visibly bristles at the mention of Sam — probably tips his hand a little that there's something going on there. A more sensitive button than just who the breadwinner is.
Obviously he's not gonna answer that question. Instead, he nods his head in Lucifer's direction — specifically, at the sign above his collarbone. )
Little on the nose, don't you think?
( Dean's own is stitched onto the breast pocket of his plaid flannel, could easily be passed off as the symbol of the shirt brand if you didn't know any better. Surprising probably no one: The Lovers. )