Night 57: M1-10 Hallway
When the familiar crackle came on from overhead, Claire had paused, then continued about his business, sorting through the few possessions he had in his box and setting them into seemingly random positions on his desk, looking as listlessly bored as he'd been just prior to the announcement. But he was quiet, quite aware of what this Aguilar man was
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Jesus Christ. Dean had to wonder if anyone bought that song and dance. Somewhere out there had to. He figured a normal civilian here would probably be crapping their pants, especially if this was their first night in this joint. On one hand, he'd rather have it straight up, but on the other, he didn't feel he should be grateful just 'cause someone was telling him how it was gonna be in this joint. As if changed the fact they were all still prisoners here.
Thanks, but no thanks.
Dean threw on his jacket and shouldered his duffel before stepping out into the hall. Claire was probably out there waiting for him and while he was all for candy -- sucks she hadn't meant it that way -- he was also tossing around the idea of checking the Medwing. The fact of the matter was Sam and him needed supplies, bad, despite whatever was going on in the air between them these days. Dean was used to living out of his car or his duffel bag but this? This was trying to do more with a lot less than even he was used to. Somehow Dad hadn't thought to train them for the possibility of getting shanghaied to a crazy house with monsters running up and down the halls.
Or okay, maybe he had, sorta, but nothing like this.
Making a final check of his stuff, Dean tested the flashlight's battery and headed out of M2.
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