[He's in the process of rolling his eyes at the way Dean's stomping along when a dark mass hurtles into Dean from the woods, knocking him off of his feet. Cursing rather creatively, he draws his gun, taking aim at... Whatever it is, he can't really make it out. Croate, probably, but it doesn't really matter; anything that tackles you in the dark is something that should be promptly shot in the face.]
Close your eyes and cover your mouth!
[It's barked out rather more authoritatively than he's usually given to, and he really hopes that now isn't the time Dean decides to question him. He fires three shots: the first two miss spectacularly, whizzing over the thing's shoulders which isn't surprising in the slightest considering the darkness and his truly abysmal aim; the third catches it on the side of the forehead, taking out a chunk of bone and splattering the immediate area- and probably Dean- with gore. Not the cleanest of shots, but it seems to do the trick, at least as far as Cas can see. He moves cautiously but quickly, gun still drawn, to where it's still twitching half flopped across Dean's body.]
[He's using his I'm a god damned angel of the Lord voice, and the instinct to obey it is so deeply ingrained in his psyche, it doesn't matter if he's Hairy Cas or Hippy Cas or Future Cas or Past Cas, he does as he's told as instinctively as calling Sam a bitch. It just happens, and his eyes squeeze shut, mouth snaps closed, he thrusts his forearms up to keep the thing away from his face. It struggles, probably why Cas missed those first two shots, but then with a third, the struggling promptly stops.
He shoves it off of him with an annoyed grunt, and it lands in the grass with a thump. Before he's even up, he's wiping the blood away from his face precariously with the bottom of his shirt, careful not to get it in any part of him that could cause infection.
He doesn't want to be a Croat. That would suck.]
Yeeeeup. You know. Can't complain.
[It's dry, stiff, and barked, which means he absolutely can complain. He's a little sobered by Cas's tone, though. Nice to hear him being commanding again. He shoves himself up to his feet.
His mouth opens, then closes again, and distantly, he can see shapes moving in the dark. There are more of them. Of course. When is there ever just one zombie? Croats travel in packs- probably alerted by the gunshot, they amble over to investigate.]
Cas.
[He stares at them quietly, stepping closer to wrap his hand around the other man's wrist. Plans. Plans are good.]
[Dean's wisecracking, which Cas takes as a good sign, more than a little bit relieved. He nudges at the croate with the toe of his boot; it's stopped moving, but he's about to fire another shot anyway, just in case. At least he is until he sees Dean peering into the distance, with that look. And then he uses that tone, the one everyone here knows so well... He frowns.]
...Fuck. There are more, aren't there?
[And of course there are, this is 2014. This isn't exactly uncommon, and so Cas isn't as rattled as one might expect... But rattled or no, there's only one option really available to them.]
We should run.
[Definitely. He squints off into the distance, and he's not sure, but he thinks he sees a dark shadow that may possibly be a house of some kind, or a shed. Or it could just be a group of trees, who knows- right now it's looking like that's their best bet.]
That way, come on--
[He takes off, fingers curled around the sleeve of Dean's jacket.]
[He nods, his voice low, because they're still ambling, and the lighting is poor. They probably don't have night vision any better than he does, if they can just find a place to hide, at least until morning...
He can't see the mass off in the woods, but he trusts Cas to know the layout a little better than him. Just trusts him in general, really, and doesn't hesitate to follow. He's not so much tugged along by the fingers curled around his sleeve, seeing as he keeps up pretty well, but still he doesn't let go. It's dark, and getting split up right now would be... bad.
Very bad.
Damn. This is his fault for dragging them out here.]
[Smoking so much is catching up to him, it seems; his lungs burn and his voice is a bit strained, coming out in a huff as they run for the shadow that he's really, really hoping is actually a building and not a mass of croates. Or worse, a tank. Running into the military? Worst case scenario, absolutely.]
Do you have a weapon on you?
[He's suddenly painfully aware of how moronic it'd been to go out at night with only his handgun. Even an extra clip or a bottle of water or something would have been smart. If Cas had the breath to spare, he'd sigh; he should really know better. But... Nothing would have killed the relaxing stargazing mood more than an End of the World goodie bag, and so he'd opted for just the gun. Not his best idea.
They're coming up to the woods now, moment of truth. He's taking the fact that they haven't been blown away already to mean that the military option is at least off the table. No bodies running at them either, so not a giant mass of croates-- and yeah, that's clearly a house. Thank God. Well, not exactly, considering He's checked out, but you get the picture. He releases the sleeve of Dean's jacket once the get close to the front door-- he hadn't realized he'd still been grabbing it.]
That's-- [a pause; smokers' lungs, gotta love 'em-] That's lucky.
Close your eyes and cover your mouth!
[It's barked out rather more authoritatively than he's usually given to, and he really hopes that now isn't the time Dean decides to question him. He fires three shots: the first two miss spectacularly, whizzing over the thing's shoulders which isn't surprising in the slightest considering the darkness and his truly abysmal aim; the third catches it on the side of the forehead, taking out a chunk of bone and splattering the immediate area- and probably Dean- with gore. Not the cleanest of shots, but it seems to do the trick, at least as far as Cas can see. He moves cautiously but quickly, gun still drawn, to where it's still twitching half flopped across Dean's body.]
Are you alright?
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He shoves it off of him with an annoyed grunt, and it lands in the grass with a thump. Before he's even up, he's wiping the blood away from his face precariously with the bottom of his shirt, careful not to get it in any part of him that could cause infection.
He doesn't want to be a Croat. That would suck.]
Yeeeeup. You know. Can't complain.
[It's dry, stiff, and barked, which means he absolutely can complain. He's a little sobered by Cas's tone, though. Nice to hear him being commanding again. He shoves himself up to his feet.
His mouth opens, then closes again, and distantly, he can see shapes moving in the dark. There are more of them. Of course. When is there ever just one zombie? Croats travel in packs- probably alerted by the gunshot, they amble over to investigate.]
Cas.
[He stares at them quietly, stepping closer to wrap his hand around the other man's wrist. Plans. Plans are good.]
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...Fuck. There are more, aren't there?
[And of course there are, this is 2014. This isn't exactly uncommon, and so Cas isn't as rattled as one might expect... But rattled or no, there's only one option really available to them.]
We should run.
[Definitely. He squints off into the distance, and he's not sure, but he thinks he sees a dark shadow that may possibly be a house of some kind, or a shed. Or it could just be a group of trees, who knows- right now it's looking like that's their best bet.]
That way, come on--
[He takes off, fingers curled around the sleeve of Dean's jacket.]
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[He nods, his voice low, because they're still ambling, and the lighting is poor. They probably don't have night vision any better than he does, if they can just find a place to hide, at least until morning...
He can't see the mass off in the woods, but he trusts Cas to know the layout a little better than him. Just trusts him in general, really, and doesn't hesitate to follow. He's not so much tugged along by the fingers curled around his sleeve, seeing as he keeps up pretty well, but still he doesn't let go. It's dark, and getting split up right now would be... bad.
Very bad.
Damn. This is his fault for dragging them out here.]
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Do you have a weapon on you?
[He's suddenly painfully aware of how moronic it'd been to go out at night with only his handgun. Even an extra clip or a bottle of water or something would have been smart. If Cas had the breath to spare, he'd sigh; he should really know better. But... Nothing would have killed the relaxing stargazing mood more than an End of the World goodie bag, and so he'd opted for just the gun. Not his best idea.
They're coming up to the woods now, moment of truth. He's taking the fact that they haven't been blown away already to mean that the military option is at least off the table. No bodies running at them either, so not a giant mass of croates-- and yeah, that's clearly a house. Thank God. Well, not exactly, considering He's checked out, but you get the picture. He releases the sleeve of Dean's jacket once the get close to the front door-- he hadn't realized he'd still been grabbing it.]
That's-- [a pause; smokers' lungs, gotta love 'em-] That's lucky.
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