Tʜᴇ ᴊɪɢ ɪs ᴜᴘ, ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴇᴡs ɪs ᴏᴜᴛ ( closed )

[righteously]

Who: Dean Winchester & Co.
When: February
Where: Cadens; Horizon; Nocwich
What: Catch-all for Feb
Warnings: mark of cain shenanigans, violence, alcohol, self-loathing

Oʜ ᴍᴀᴍᴀ, I'ᴍ ɪɴ ғᴇᴀʀ ғᴏʀ ᴍʏ ʟɪғᴇ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴏɴɢ ᴀʀᴍ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀᴡ
Lᴀᴡᴍᴀɴ ʜᴀs ᴘᴜᴛ ᴀɴ ᴇɴᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴍʏ ʀᴜɴɴɪɴ', ᴀɴᴅ I'ᴍ sᴏ ғᴀʀ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴍʏ ʜᴏᴍᴇ

Comments

[gynvael]

[ Geralt is shit at small talk of any kind; it's a testament to Dean's ability to fill the silence for both of them that the conversation even goes beyond thirty seconds.

Once it dies, Geralt sure as fuck isn't the one to resuscitate it.

Last time he had cellmates, he was crammed in with three others for weeks. Only one of whom he could really tolerate. (Ironically, the vampire.) He is, in other words, exceptionally good at ignoring a variety of pacing, sighing, and yes, the fucking bouncing ball that's emerged out of nowhere.

Geralt, meanwhile, has not moved from where he's planted himself. He cracks open one eye. Than the other. ]

Spare me the philosophical quandary of fish.

[righteously]

( He tips his chin down from his vacant stare at the ceiling just long enough to flash Geralt an unimpressed bitchface, then turns his gaze upward again. )

It's not a philosophical quandary, it's a serious question. Come on, man, did you have sharks or not?

[gynvael]

[ A sigh in answer. He leans his head back against the grimy wall. ]

Sure. Taste all right.

[ Is Dean referring to the ever-typical great white? Possibly. Is that anything near the common dogfish Geralt has in mind? No. Regrettably, the sharks that appear in the northern waters around the Continent are fairly small.

They pickle well, though. ]

[righteously]

( So, here's the thing: that was a preemptive question. It was the Part 1 question to the far more serious question he wants to ask.

With utmost solemnity, he levels Geralt with a look. )

You ever had a sharknado?

[gynvael]

[ On occasion, a man regrets the friendships he acquires. Perhaps he is better off alone. How does he go back to being alone?

He closes his eyes again. ]

I don't believe you understand the words you use.

[righteously]

( There is no turning back. He has willingly allowed Dean Winchester to tether himself and now he cannot be excised. This is just life now. This is forever.

Or until Geralt kills him because of the mark on his arm slowly corrupting everything that was good about him and turning him into an irredeemable shadow of himself deserving only of death, or whatever.

Anyway: )

Oh, I understand 'em. Sharknado. It's when a massive tornado hits shark infested waters and scoops 'em up, then moves inland and just... friggin' nados sharks all over the place. You guys ever have one of those?

[gynvael]

[ His eyes are not opening. Not even in the midst of this absurdity. Why would a cyclone—? ]

Dean.

[ Can't the man go to sleep for a few hours? More folk should learn to meditate. It's soothing. Prevents conversation.

He rubs his temple. When he finally does open his eyes again, he can see the young guard outside staring sidelong into the cell with a mixture of fascination and deep concern. ]

No.

[ And. ]

You're scaring the boy.