Iɴ Hᴇʟʟ, I'ʟʟ ʙᴇ ɪɴ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴄᴏᴍᴘᴀɴʏ → sᴇᴍɪ-ᴏᴘᴇɴ

[righteously]

Who: Dean & Various
When: August
Where: Cadens & the Horizon
What: Catch-all

Warnings: Winchester-brand violence, booze, and suicidal ideation I'm sure.

I ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ғɪɢʜᴛ
Tᴏ ᴘʀᴏᴠᴇ I'ᴍ ʀɪɢʜᴛ
I ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ғᴏʀɢɪᴠᴇɴ

Comments

[shadowthief]

"Oh, you've decided this already, have you?" She asks, amused at the way he seems so certain, instantly.

She watches him work, the symbol forming slowly across her skin as he does. Her stomach clenches, but she breathes through it and relaxes. It's not a brand. It's protection. "Net-flix?" there's an obvious hesitation in the middle of the word. "Dean, we didn't even have electricity where I'm from, you cannot throw so many foreign words at me and expect me to follow the conversation," she says it through a soft huff, both amused and annoyed at once, though not heated at all.

"I'll trust your taste," she teases him playfully.

[righteously]

You've decided this already, have you?

He looks up at her long enough to shoot her a smirk that reads: yes, yes he has. He doesn't even have to say it, and a beat later, his eyes are back down on her wrist again. Left hand gentle where he holds it in place, like an apology for the right one digging needles into her skin on repeat. She can take it, he knows, but that doesn't mean he's thrilled about inflicting pain.

"We'll get you up to speed. I'll get you a cell phone and everything, the whole nine. Pretty soon you'll be texting people about how uncool I am just like every other 21st century Earth millennial."

[shadowthief]

She smiles softly at the look he gives her. The pain she can deal with- but she appreciates the care behind it all. It's very different than the last time she was given a mark. Heleen branded her, and nothing more. Just another layer to the reminders that she was property to be owned. This couldn't be more different. She may not know him well, but Inej is certain that Dean would never deign to own someone, no matter how things shifted and changed through time.

"A cell phone?" Her face scrunches with her confusion. "I feel like I need a crash course in your century just to know what you're talking about, half the time." She scoffs softly, a soft tut of a sound. She can't shake her head at him for the risk of moving too much, but the sentiment of it is there, all the same.

[righteously]

"Don't worry, it ain't just you," he reassures her with a wry quirk to his lips. "I've known Cas for near five friggin' years now and he still only knows half of what I'm saying. It grows on you."

A beat.

"Or you learn to ignore it. I'm an acquired taste. Like Sushi, or Jim Morrison."

And so it will go for the next hour, give or take — bullshitting while he slowly but surely inks her in, gentle where he can be even if there's no totally dulling the pain of a tattoo.