08: [Video] Head Games
The screen flickers on, resolution grainy for a moment, before focusing. Audio is garbled until a broad hand comes into view and shakes the camera, and then the sound comes through clear as well. Dean is up close to the lens, brow furrowed, and then he quirks a broad smile.
"Mornin', ladies and gentlemen," He waggles his eyebrows, moving back ( Read more... )
"Mornin', ladies and gentlemen," He waggles his eyebrows, moving back ( Read more... )
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That was the dude's name, right? It's been a few days since they talked, and the guy'd looked like shit back then. He seems to have gotten better since then.
"Yeah, m'offerin'. You wanna learn?"
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It's not that he hasn't fired a gun before. But even though nothing actually happened, even though he understands that death here isn't quite what it usually is, Masky's visit has decided him that he can stand to improve his less-than-stellar record.
"I know a little."
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Dean considers this seriously for a minute. He could always stand to have someone else knowing how to use a weapon, and he could always use another ally in this godforsaken place, as well. The man doesn't look altogether too intimidating - a bit shifty, but that's nervousness in 'im.
"...all right. 'M gonna head out to that clearing before the woods. What floor are you on again, Mark?"
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He's still on the second floor; only across the hall from his previous location, in fact. He tells himself it isn't paranoid to keep quiet about it. Just cautious.
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It's another ten minutes or so before Dean makes it to the spot he'd been referring to - before the other man gets there - and he starts setting up his targets for practice. No sense in wasting time, but he might as well waste ammo since there's plenty in the Magic Closet.
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"You do much shootin', man?" The hunter folds his arms across his chest, glancing down at his considerable arsenal in the duffel bag at his feet, then back at Mark's revolver. "If ya need any bullets, I got plenty."
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Bloody fucking lie, that is. Mark seems like the disapproving, fatherly-figure type.
One would think it would be easier for Dean to relate to that.
He's ignoring the similarity for now.
Withdrawing his own gun, Dean nods towards the targets. "Set up a few cans to knock off for practice. I'd like an actual job - a ghost to hunt, or werewolf to gank -but this is second best for now, right?"
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He obviously does, since he's sporting a smile.
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"I read about all kinds of paranormal phenomena, when I was around your age. Was never really sure whether to believe it. But I guess it's established knowledge, where you're from?"
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"People still don't believe in it where I'm from. We basically have to protect the ignorant...sometimes violently ignorant."
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Ghosts, diving suit monsters...same thing, right? He might not go in for the supernatural himself, but he'll certainly give Dean the benefit of the doubt.
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Fuck recycling.
"Mark Something?"
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