( Thorne. Could he be lying? Absolutely. For some reason, Dean doesn't think he is — Lucifer's always taken a certain vindictive joy out of honesty. It's almost like he gets off on the prospect of throwing down the truth knowing that even with that boost, Dean can't do jack. Jumping Sam's bones in Detroit. Giving him exact names, or years, or plans, or whatever, offered freely because he knows it doesn't make a difference. Some bullshit gigantic moon-sized ego thing.
Dean believes him.
He's also not an idiot. He totally doesn't have that same confidence, he needs every scrap and spare inch of advantage he can get just to keep up with the son of a bitch.
So. )
Awesome. Good talk.
( And then he gets to do the most satisfying thing he's done in forever: he gets to be the one that abruptly flaps out of the conversation like a dick with wings, disappearing from the Horizon without following through.
The difference between him and Crowley? He's not a demon. Deals aren't handcuffs. Screw that noise. Adios, douchebag.
Hopefully that one doesn't come back to bite him later. )
no subject
Dean believes him.
He's also not an idiot. He totally doesn't have that same confidence, he needs every scrap and spare inch of advantage he can get just to keep up with the son of a bitch.
So. )
Awesome. Good talk.
( And then he gets to do the most satisfying thing he's done in forever: he gets to be the one that abruptly flaps out of the conversation like a dick with wings, disappearing from the Horizon without following through.
The difference between him and Crowley? He's not a demon. Deals aren't handcuffs. Screw that noise. Adios, douchebag.
Hopefully that one doesn't come back to bite him later. )