Sam asks are you a student, and Dean's gentle snort is maybe slightly audible. Laughing at the prospect, at the concept — her, Ciri, doing the whole Stanford thing, settling in with flash cards studying her ass off about magical algebra or whatever. It's probably a rude thing to laugh about, and karma comes for him swiftly. She says his so skeptically, his head whips up and he shoots her an affronted look.

"I could be a teacher," defensively; how dare you scoff. "I'm a great teacher."