Okay, look. [ Jo's half-bewildered, half-withering look at Cas of 'omg what are the words coming out of your mouth at this moment?????' turns back to Dean with a raise of a hand. ]
You were evil, he was on one of the last not-as-terrible nights before he actually went unconscious, and at the end of his just realized he had feelings spiral, and there was talk about working saving you still and everyone being in love with you— [ This with a look of sharp eyebrows, that begs Dean to be smart enough for twelve seconds to not take that as some arrogant compliment at the second. ] —and their fears or what have you because of the fucked up crazy of this place, time, the inability to get out of here, or what happens if we do, and things...
Happened.
And no. [ Jo looks back to Cas, and there's a sigh out of her nose. Because she can't ignore that he asked first. ] I don't think I do. [ Look. She knows. She gets it. That isn't even helpfully phrased, but she doesn't think she fucking has a more honest answer for it yet. Except. That's not entirely the truth, is it. Because it's not that simple.
And it's not because it was just kissing Cas, is it? Even the kissing was because of what—
It's an odd shift of her shoulders, and she finally walks a little closer than half the room she's been apart from them, which feels, honestly, weird with them both in that one spot. ] Some of the things you said. You know. Before it. I don't often ... feel like people see me as clearly as that.
[ Jo knows she puts a fuck ton of energy into the constant state, both willed and two-decades now-unconsciousness habit, of making it look like she absolutely doesn't give much of a fuck about that. What people think of her choices. Whether they understand her, so long as they don't get in her way or tell her who and what she can't be. Refuses to be cowed or shouted over or incapable of handling everything she has to.
But sometimes. Sometimes she just fucking needs someone to see her. Underneath all of it. Too. ]
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You were evil, he was on one of the last not-as-terrible nights before he actually went unconscious, and at the end of his just realized he had feelings spiral, and there was talk about working saving you still and everyone being in love with you— [ This with a look of sharp eyebrows, that begs Dean to be smart enough for twelve seconds to not take that as some arrogant compliment at the second. ] —and their fears or what have you because of the fucked up crazy of this place, time, the inability to get out of here, or what happens if we do, and things...
Happened.
And no. [ Jo looks back to Cas, and there's a sigh out of her nose. Because she can't ignore that he asked first. ] I don't think I do. [ Look. She knows. She gets it. That isn't even helpfully phrased, but she doesn't think she fucking has a more honest answer for it yet. Except. That's not entirely the truth, is it. Because it's not that simple.
And it's not because it was just kissing Cas, is it?
Even the kissing was because of what—
It's an odd shift of her shoulders, and she finally walks a little closer than half the room she's been apart from them, which feels, honestly, weird with them both in that one spot. ] Some of the things you said. You know. Before it. I don't often ... feel like people see me as clearly as that.
[ Jo knows she puts a fuck ton of energy into the constant state, both willed and two-decades now-unconsciousness habit, of making it look like she absolutely doesn't give much of a fuck about that. What people think of her choices. Whether they understand her, so long as they don't get in her way or tell her who and what she can't be. Refuses to be cowed or shouted over or incapable of handling everything she has to.
But sometimes. Sometimes she just fucking needs someone to see her. Underneath all of it. Too. ]