16: [Action] Separate Ways

[dashboardlite]

An extremely heavy, loud bass-beat is thumping down the hallways and spewing out of the library.

Dean has acquired a boombox.

He's also legitimately doing research, for once in his life, plucking books here and there and stacking them in a rather haphazard fashion on the nearest table, all the while singing along to Separate Ways by one of the

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[shocknshootout]

Of course this is what he'd find when he went to the library. Of course. As someone who never goes to libraries, he's not sure this is necessarily unusual, but it certainly is loud.

"Nice fucking music choice."

[dashboardlite]

"You're damn straight it's nice," He quips back, turning in his chair to appraise the newcomer. Dean frowns minutely.

"Haven't see you around here, dude. Who're you?"

[shocknshootout]

"Name's Chev Chelios. You haven't seen me because I'm really fucking new around here."

He shrugs, still looking around himself at the library.

[dashboardlite]

"I know the feeling," Dean grimaces. "Name's Dean Winchester. Been here a coupla months now. This place ain't exactly my usual hauntin' spot, but you probably know how that is."

[shocknshootout]

He shakes his head. "Yeah, this place is really fucking ridiculous. Not sure if there's normally boomboxes in the fucking library, though."

He doesn't sound so sure about that.

[dashboardlite]

"Brought it m'self."

Dean looks rather proud of himself, and quirks another grin. "These sonsabitches in here are goddamn boring; thought I'd spice things up."

[shocknshootout]

"Yeah, I'd fucking noticed that. Everyone throws a motherfucking fit when they see me carrying a gun around here."

He looks legitimately irritated by this.

[dashboardlite]

He snorts. "I know the feelin', dude. I'd feel naked without a gun." Dean pats the front of his jacket where he stashes his firearm, find it relieving that someone else here is smart enough to bear arms.

[shocknshootout]

"Yeah. I got two handguns and a shotgun here," he says, although he doesn't say exactly where his guns are stashed. It's nice to finally meet someone who carries a gun, too.

[dashboardlite]

Dean frowns a little, shifting. "Normally I keep all my stuff in my car, but the damned house won't lemme have my baby, so I had to move the arsenal."

And the holy water. And the stakes. And the silver bullet-cartridges.

[shocknshootout]

"Arsenal? What else ya got?" He sounds curious, for sure. Why wouldn't he be? Someone else with a bunch of weapons running around the house can be a threat. Or a friend. Or both, most likely.

[dashboardlite]

"I think the better question is what do I not have," Dean mumbles, chewing on the inside of his cheek for a moment. He starts listing off on his fingers:

"Sawed-off barrel shotguns, IMI Desert Eagle, iron bullets, lead bullets, silver bullets, six-shooting revolver, a Beretta, stakes, knives, machetes. Uh." Dean furrows his brow. "...some other stuff too. For my job."

[shocknshootout]

"Well, fuck, what kinda job do you have?"

Yeah, those were some impressive weapons, although he wasn't too sure about the silver bullets. That seemed kind of like overkill. Unless the guy was shooting werewolves. Yeah right.

[dashboardlite]

"I hunt monsters."

He replies bluntly, suppressing the smile on his face. Honesty's the best policy, right?

[shocknshootout]

"Well, fuck, all right. Guess it takes all kinds. And I heard there were fucking monsters around here, anyway."

Does he believe in monsters? He's not sure. But if monsters exist, it makes a lot of fucking sense that there'd be monster hunters, too.

[dashboardlite]

"Man, you don't even know the half of it," Dean shakes his head with a weary grin. "This place gets crazier every goddamn day."