( That eye contact is... something. It's mind-blanking, it's arresting, he's trapped in the same two seconds in a way that feels way longer, stretching out and lingering, and he can't think.
Then it's gone, and the dude just looks sheepish. Man, this new face is really running full-tilt in the opposite direction in terms of badassery.
The fact that he's missing his memory too opens up a little reluctant sympathy on Dean's part, even if he's still digesting what the thing actually is, deep down under those robes. It would be real friggin nice to put a name to whatever that was.
At any rate, without a lifetime of experience killing or being killed by things that aren't human, it's a little easier for him to do some... slight approximation of relaxing. The socket wrench lowers again, and he breaks away from vigilance to cast his eyes about the car graveyard like he's inspecting it for the first time all over again. )
The fixing, apparently. I don't know, I guess it's a hobby.
( He shifts, carefully leaning against the hood of the car — not that he's worried about structural integrity, just that he's still way too aware of-- Castiel, apparently. Is that a weird name? It seems like it's probably a weird name. )
The brain might not remember, but the hands do. ( Muscle memory, or whatever. A beat. ) So what are you, like, my neighbor or something? Is that a thing here?
no subject
Then it's gone, and the dude just looks sheepish. Man, this new face is really running full-tilt in the opposite direction in terms of badassery.
The fact that he's missing his memory too opens up a little reluctant sympathy on Dean's part, even if he's still digesting what the thing actually is, deep down under those robes. It would be real friggin nice to put a name to whatever that was.
At any rate, without a lifetime of experience killing or being killed by things that aren't human, it's a little easier for him to do some... slight approximation of relaxing. The socket wrench lowers again, and he breaks away from vigilance to cast his eyes about the car graveyard like he's inspecting it for the first time all over again. )
The fixing, apparently. I don't know, I guess it's a hobby.
( He shifts, carefully leaning against the hood of the car — not that he's worried about structural integrity, just that he's still way too aware of-- Castiel, apparently. Is that a weird name? It seems like it's probably a weird name. )
The brain might not remember, but the hands do. ( Muscle memory, or whatever. A beat. ) So what are you, like, my neighbor or something? Is that a thing here?