[ It's the type of question he expects nothing from one way or another: a dismissive shrug, a joke, or a more genuine answer. Dean opts for the last. Once, it might have surprised him. It no longer does. They've shared enough between each other. What's one more?
The pause says more than Dean's answer. ] They can't find someone else?
[ Wry, gently prodding. A mess. Something in particular. Something Dean feels responsible for? Perhaps. He does understand. He feels like—he's turned his back on his people. Staying here. But he knows there's nothing of his kind to preserve.
The world doesn't need them. When the last of them die out, it will move on with barely a glance back. ]
no subject
The pause says more than Dean's answer. ] They can't find someone else?
[ Wry, gently prodding. A mess. Something in particular. Something Dean feels responsible for? Perhaps. He does understand. He feels like—he's turned his back on his people. Staying here. But he knows there's nothing of his kind to preserve.
The world doesn't need them. When the last of them die out, it will move on with barely a glance back. ]