[The feed turns on to show the crackling warm glow of what appears to be an impromptu fire, the glittering of scales, some amount of blood on the snow on the ground, and a lot of liquor bottles.
Oh, and Jo and Cas, sitting against what appears to be a dead baby dragon.
Jo herself is cradling a gun, sitting with her legs crossed, and she’s loading the
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You are capable of doing so yourself, Jo.
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[And Jo gestures slightly toward a pile of sticks that she sharpened earlier, searching for the word. Her vocabulary is failing her. Spectacularly.
-- and about one minute later.]
-- kabobs.
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Finally, when she gets out the word, he simply picks up one of the sticks and holds it out to her.]
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Cas-ti -- [And the girl pauses, almost thoughtfully, before scowling to herself in irritation.] Your name sucks. Who the hell names their kid something like -- whatever, spear the dragon and be a man and make the shish kabob.
[There's a slight slur on the 'kabob'. Fucking words. Screw English. She doesn't need it to shoot things.]
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Dean, too?
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No shit. You just dry it over the fire, right? How thin's it gotta be?
[WHAT PROBLEMS. JO HAS NO PROBLEMS. NONE.]
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Maybe if we cut it even thinner on a really sunny day. Might work.
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[Though he sort of knows, since Dean comes out alive in all this, but you know.]
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[He's actually a little reassured. What nice things to say, Raphael.]
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Cas and I are kinda badass.
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Can you eat it? I can totally come help carry dragon back.
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Can you handle yourself in the Wastes?
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