( By all rights, his first instinct probably should have been to peel the hell back away from this strange weirdo reaching out to grab what's obviously an inflamed scar, but he... doesn't. He freezes, stock-still, enthralled and morbidly fascinated by the unfolding of events. The slow-motion line-up of hand over mark, the descent, and even though he knows by sight before it lands it's going to match, it's still weirdly startling that it does. That it fits so perfectly.
Awestruck and wary, Dean levels him with a look, searching, uncomfortable, discerning. )
Who the hell are you?
( Maybe more importantly, did he just find one of his people?
This whole affair leaves him shook, gives him enough incentive to yank himself out of the Horizon to figure out just who in the hell this dude even is. He jolts awake in the real world, mind fuzzy, memories filtering out like water through cupped hands until all he has left is confusion and a weird itch on his arm. )
no subject
Awestruck and wary, Dean levels him with a look, searching, uncomfortable, discerning. )
Who the hell are you?
( Maybe more importantly, did he just find one of his people?
This whole affair leaves him shook, gives him enough incentive to yank himself out of the Horizon to figure out just who in the hell this dude even is. He jolts awake in the real world, mind fuzzy, memories filtering out like water through cupped hands until all he has left is confusion and a weird itch on his arm. )
...huh. So that's what DMT feels like.