Nero goes and almost immediately starts knocking shit over where Dean left off with his own bizarre looking set of wings, and for a moment there... even as weird as it is, he's gotta admit, there's a deep sense of this guy gets it unfolding. Relatable.

He'd probably feel that a little bit less if he'd seen the arm do the arm thing, but that skirted completely past him.

To his we're leaving, the guy at the front only responds with a long, tired sigh. Much like using currency is completely pointless here, physically picking up their mess is utterly unnecessary — and yet, Jack's going to do it anyway, because it doesn't occur to him to magically will things back into place. Such is the nature of humanity sometimes.

"Yeah," Dean agrees briskly, yanking his nachos back and offering up one more apologetic wave before leading them out the door and back into the parking lot. As they go, he absently glances at Nero's wings again and mumbles a faintly annoyed, "Why do yours get hands?"

At least that would make them useful.