As he stands there, staring, Dean Winchester wonders why he's never noticed this door before. It's not anything normal, by any stretch - it's just a huge door; tall, foreboding, made of something that looks like solid oak. He hasn't touched it yet, he's simply been waiting. Waiting for it to open, waiting for someone to go in or come out.
It
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For the moment he stands a distance away from the door, hands in the pockets of his hakama as he looks at the front hall with a bored expression.]
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"...you got a problem, buddy?"
He's just staring, and it's kinda creepy.
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Maybe.
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Normally, he'd shrug it off as odd behavior, but it's the insufferable expression on the guy's face that really, really grates. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he raises his chin a little, appraising the guy. Here he was, legitimately investigating something for once in this stupid house, and some civvie wanted to look.
Point-blank, in his usual blunt manner, Dean cocked his head to one side and frowned. "Look, dude, I don't swing that way, so if you're gonna stare do that somewhere else."
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Don't flatter yerself; humans are always so fuckin' vain. Unbelievable.
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"...right, well, get your kicks somewhere else, buddy. I don't have time for your two-bit, wannabe-spirit ass."
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"...I dunno, man. You're just gonna push until you find out, so maybe I'll let it be a surprise, hunh?"
Shrugging, he turns back to the door and smoothes one hand over it again, frowning.
It's like the whole world is intent on keeping him from this door.
Why?
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Better be careful, shouldn't I? Wouldn't wanna get on yer bad side...
[Oh, he couldn't. He wouldn't. ...Why yes, he'll be more of a prick just to make your day better, Dean. And he'll start by approaching you casually like he wasn't the soul eating hollow he was~ ...Well, maybe just a little.]
Whatcha got there~?
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"A bomb," Dean lies glibly, no trace denying as such on his face. "Gonna blow this fuckin' door sky high and see where that gets us."
Or ram it down your smug throat, you irritating prick.
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A bomb, hmm~? And why do ya think that sounds like a great idea?
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[There isn't a violent implication in his words. He's completely harmless. Honestly.]
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[Dean fiddles with the switches on his EMF to make it look as though he's punching in the settings for a time bomb. Hey - No one said he couldn't be a shithead.]
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Lemme see that. Ya don't mind, do ya?
[He grabs at the EMF. If he does manage to get it he won't have one shred of sympathy for Dean if he accidentally crushes his fingers on the way by.]
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Before he can stop the other, his fingers are sore and the asshole has his EMF. His comm unit, by default. Ignoring the twinge of pain - this dick was a strong motherfucker - Dean curls one hand into a fist and holds the other one out.
"Gimme that back, asshole."
If looks could kill, the guy would be dead already.
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