[Spam with Dean - Idk, pub?]

[doeswhatido]

[[It'd been an odd few days, 47 would give the Admiral that much. Whether it was listening to the psychiatrist ramble on and on about invisible, odorless chemicals; whether it was finding out Angelica had brought forth an illness with her return he'd had no idea about because he'd been too busy being neglectful of everything that wasn't his room

Comments

[possemagnet]

[After a day of watching a bunch of people that couldn't hold their liquor it amused Dean that the first thing he did at 5 o' clock on a Saturday evening was make his way over to the pub that Spock allowed him in to have a few long necks and just chill out. He had no intentions of getting hammered he just needed that familiarity. On the road he and Sam were able to make at least one or two stops during jobs to unload with a few Corona's and act like their life didn't suck

[doeswhatido]

Nice of your Warden...[[He trailed as he sat, putting each shot glass on a napkin and arranging them in a triangle neatly. His fingers pushed and prodded at the ends of the napkins, turning them one way or the other, fixing them up until it was absolutely perfect. What could he say? The man liked order, when he could have it.

He looked across the way at the remnants of labels on the bottles.]] Not sloshed, are we? [[He hoped, at least.]]

[possemagnet]

[Dean wasn't going to get up and leave once the guy sat down, he wasn't looking for any company right now but 47 didn't really bug him as far as barge residents went so he was able to blissfully overlook the fact that he'd rather continue being on his own and publicly withdrawn. He was sure he screwed that up yesterday, anyway, while trying to figure out what was doing on.] Uh... no? [He replied.] I've only had two. Takes a lot more than that to sink me.

...He's an alright guy.

[doeswhatido]

[[He carefully picked up one of the glasses and sniffed the aroma, drinking a sip and setting it back down. He wondered what kind of hard liquor Dean was into, but it seemed he was just content with...what? Shitty beer?

Life was too short to drink shitty beer.]]

Who is it?

[possemagnet]

[Dean drank beer to calm down, it wasn't that he didn't have a taste for rougher booze- he just wasn't in any mood for the weight of it.] Does it matter? [He asked. He didn't see why they were talking about Spock when he obviously wasn't hurting anyone.]

[doeswhatido]

[[He leaned back a bit. Dean seemed to have this attitude about him that 47 felt amused by and at the same time wanted to break. It was an odd feeling for him, surely, but he'd seen some of the grins on the other operatives' faces growing up, and for some reason the kick that sent them off their feet made him repress his lips curling into a grin himself.

He looked back over at him with an eyebrow raised.]]

Why are you so concerned with simple questions?

[possemagnet]

Just has nothin' to do with why I'm in here havin' a few beers. [Dean shrugged. It wasn't that he was jilted by the question or even that he wasn't comfortable sharing it, he just didn't think it needed to be answered or had to be asked.]

[doeswhatido]

I think it's called "having a conversation."

[[It sounded ten times less sarcastic than the words behind it suggested, which was just what he was aiming for. It wouldn't do to get a reputation on a smarmy asshole. He probably had one as an asshole overall, but it didn't seem to warrant any sort of "Hey, Asshole!" cat call from people going down the hallways.]]

For instance-I have no name, I have a number, 47. I come from the planet earth in the year 2007, your average human being with skills I have learned since I could walk. I haven't been assigned an Inmate as of yet, which is a little worrisome, and I have recently signed on to work shifts in aid of the Infirmary.

[[He gestured his hand from him to Dean.]]

Now it's your turn.

[[...I think I got that right.]]

[possemagnet]

[Dean pulled a mildly confused glance at his pattern of speech but adjusted his fingers around the bottle all the same, bringing it to his lips for a swig before he replied.] My name's Dean. 2010. I'm in the kitchen.

[He didn't need to go into detail, he didn't want to.] Been tryin' to get in on the infirmary though.

[doeswhatido]

With Paddy, right?

[[He finished his first glass, looking down as he furrowed his brow at the end taste. It always gave him a bit of a jolt no matter how many times it went down. He looked back up, crossing his ankle at the knee and leaning back.]]

Why haven't you been able to get on? Martha asked for volunteers not all that long ago. I'm sure she wouldn't mind. She's a rather pleasant woman.

[possemagnet]

Yeah, he's in charge of the shift. [Dean nodded before taking another swig, his index finger hooked around the nozzle of the bottle.] I just haven't gotten around to askin' for a fourth time. I talked to Martha yesterday when she was affected by the flood, she is.

[doeswhatido]

Fourth time?

[[He looked at that crooked finger with a puzzled expression playing on his face. Did he think 47 was going to try and take it away from him? It seemed to be a protective response...or he was just getting on his enjoyment of the beer quite happily.]]

[possemagnet]

[It was neither. Dean was confident enough in himself not to be threatened by 47 and he was nowhere near buzzed, let alone drunk, it was frustration based. He didn't like to have to ask anything like that more than once. He wasn't exactly open about it.] Yeah, timing's been off a few times. At least... I'm pretty sure, anyway.

[doeswhatido]

Pretty sure...?

[[He looked at his second glass, running one finger over the rim of it and producing a low humming sound. A thought struck him.]]

Someone jerking you around?

[possemagnet]

I doubt it. [Dean didn't think it had anything to do with that. He just had lousy timing when it came to everything and was usually busy with his own things.] Like I said- it's probably timing.

[doeswhatido]

I see.

[[And there his conversational skills-the lack thereof, that's what should be said-tanked. He didn't know what to say or reply with, so he simply fixed the triangular end of the napkin beneath the second glass and stared down at it, clearing his throat slightly.]]