( Dean's given the same answer as others, but while he might still be more brusque than the average civilian, he's also more empathetic than the average hunter. I'm not meant for a boring life resonates. He knows the feeling of being lost when he has nothing to fight. That understanding hovers around his eyes, broadcasted sympathy, and he settles down into his chair like a reflection of how he's settling into this conversation. )
I get it. I tried it once, for about a year. At the end of the day... ( He shakes his head slowly. Idly spins his tumbler sporting a couple fingers of whiskey. The second part of that sentiment, he just couldn't do it, goes unspoken. ) Anyway, for the record... if there was, I don't know, a war, a shoot-out, if I needed people with me to go toe-to-toe with a bunch of humans, I'd ask you. No question. But...
( How to articulate this? It takes him a beat, before he settles on: )
Monsters aren't people. They don't think like people. People are... most of 'em are predictable. They have some kind of rationality you can guess at. People hesitate. Ninety percent of them have even a scrap of empathy, they have limits, they have vulnerabilities you'll probably know by heart after whatever you've lived through. ( There's a short pause to let him digest that, but then he carries on because this here's a good old fashioned monologue. ) Monsters are different. Even the rare ones that can walk, talk, and pretend to be people. They're chaos. They're rabid. They're rage. They will kill you, and they will kill the people you care about if you're dumb enough to bring them. One wrong claw, one swipe, one bite too close to an artery or without some kind of anti-venom, and that's it. Lights out. One hundred to zero. Most of 'em you can't kill with a bullet, or two, or fifty, and then they're on you.
People see other people. Monsters see food, and honestly? If you're too slow, you're better off dead. Half of 'em keep their food alive for days so it stays fresh. ( To close this all up: ) This is just one of a dozen other reasons why nobody with any sense is gonna take you out there. Most of us have made that mistake already, and that blood doesn't wash off.
no subject
I get it. I tried it once, for about a year. At the end of the day... ( He shakes his head slowly. Idly spins his tumbler sporting a couple fingers of whiskey. The second part of that sentiment, he just couldn't do it, goes unspoken. ) Anyway, for the record... if there was, I don't know, a war, a shoot-out, if I needed people with me to go toe-to-toe with a bunch of humans, I'd ask you. No question. But...
( How to articulate this? It takes him a beat, before he settles on: )
Monsters aren't people. They don't think like people. People are... most of 'em are predictable. They have some kind of rationality you can guess at. People hesitate. Ninety percent of them have even a scrap of empathy, they have limits, they have vulnerabilities you'll probably know by heart after whatever you've lived through. ( There's a short pause to let him digest that, but then he carries on because this here's a good old fashioned monologue. ) Monsters are different. Even the rare ones that can walk, talk, and pretend to be people. They're chaos. They're rabid. They're rage. They will kill you, and they will kill the people you care about if you're dumb enough to bring them. One wrong claw, one swipe, one bite too close to an artery or without some kind of anti-venom, and that's it. Lights out. One hundred to zero. Most of 'em you can't kill with a bullet, or two, or fifty, and then they're on you.
People see other people. Monsters see food, and honestly? If you're too slow, you're better off dead. Half of 'em keep their food alive for days so it stays fresh. ( To close this all up: ) This is just one of a dozen other reasons why nobody with any sense is gonna take you out there. Most of us have made that mistake already, and that blood doesn't wash off.