Dean's bowlegs are fine and when you're climbing cliffs in the desert to hunt monsters every day is leg day, shut up skinny rando, who asked you? Nobody, that's who.

He snorts at nay — look, it's been a hot minute since anybody around here appreciated a good pun. Every time he drops one, he just gets that dead-eyed I'm disappointed in you look. It's refreshing.

"Far as I know, they haven't had any takers," including himself, just so they're both clear on that. "Whether or not they're finding less obvious ways to use us... kind of a touchy subject around here, trust me."

He brought it up to the population as a whole a few weeks back. It didn't go over great. Probably discernible in his voice that he suspects something less than kosher's happening on that front, but he's not about to go all conspiracy theory guy meme on this poor son of a bitch in the newbie wagon.

"Might wanna reconsider the horse thing, though. The outpost taxi doesn't exactly make for the best local bus route."

Which probably begs the question of why he's taking it. Damn it, Karen.