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[Dean adjusts the reciever camera of Sam's PORTAL feed over its angled placement on his shelf and points as it starts recording, hits him with the back of his hand against his shoulder, and manages a coy grin.]
[ Sam cringes a little at the slap, giving his brother a look. ] Dude, seriously? You don't have to hit me like I'm some dumb kid. [ Aaand looking back at the device. He looks annoyed. Moose-bitchfacing. ]
... Dean wants... to have a pool match.
[Dean looks incredulous at that.] You were fine with it five minutes ago and now it's Dean's idea. You chicken heart.
[ Shoots him a look back. ] Bite me.
No thanks, not big on rancid meat. [Dean looks reflective and spreads his arms out in front of the feed.] Listen up, here's the terms. We're betting real shit, whatever you can dream up and it all goes to the winner of the last game.
[ Wait. Eyeroll. ] Why make a tournament out of it if it's just for the last game? Nobody's gonna want to play five rounds if winning one's it.
[Dean rolls his eyes right back.] Weren't you the guy who made this my idea? Fine, your terms. Make 'em count and none of that pussy accomadating bullshit. Make it a challenge, Sammy.
[ B| FUCK YOU BIG BROTHER YOU SO DUMB. ] Best out of five wins. Everything else is the same. Two versus two. Me and Dean against whoever wants to take us on.
[Dean pops a beer bottle open with the side of Sam's desk just to piss him off and takes a swig.] Yeah, okay, I can live with that.
[ Sam grabs his device and is in the process of shutting it off as he turns and gives Dean an incredibly irritated look. ] Dude, really? On my des-- [ And the feed cuts. ]
{{ooc; RED is Sam. BLUE is Dean. Both Dean and Sam will be replying to this.}}
[ Sam cringes a little at the slap, giving his brother a look. ] Dude, seriously? You don't have to hit me like I'm some dumb kid. [ Aaand looking back at the device. He looks annoyed. Moose-bitchfacing. ]
... Dean wants... to have a pool match.
[Dean looks incredulous at that.] You were fine with it five minutes ago and now it's Dean's idea. You chicken heart.
[ Shoots him a look back. ] Bite me.
No thanks, not big on rancid meat. [Dean looks reflective and spreads his arms out in front of the feed.] Listen up, here's the terms. We're betting real shit, whatever you can dream up and it all goes to the winner of the last game.
[ Wait. Eyeroll. ] Why make a tournament out of it if it's just for the last game? Nobody's gonna want to play five rounds if winning one's it.
[Dean rolls his eyes right back.] Weren't you the guy who made this my idea? Fine, your terms. Make 'em count and none of that pussy accomadating bullshit. Make it a challenge, Sammy.
[ B| FUCK YOU BIG BROTHER YOU SO DUMB. ] Best out of five wins. Everything else is the same. Two versus two. Me and Dean against whoever wants to take us on.
[Dean pops a beer bottle open with the side of Sam's desk just to piss him off and takes a swig.] Yeah, okay, I can live with that.
[ Sam grabs his device and is in the process of shutting it off as he turns and gives Dean an incredibly irritated look. ] Dude, really? On my des-- [ And the feed cuts. ]
{{ooc; RED is Sam. BLUE is Dean. Both Dean and Sam will be replying to this.}}