ᴛʀᴀᴄᴋ ᴏɴᴇ: ʀᴇɴᴇɢᴀᴅᴇ ✗ ᴀᴄᴄɪᴅᴇɴᴛᴀʟ ᴀᴜᴅɪᴏ ✗ ᴀʀʀɪᴠᴀʟ
[When Dean first comes to it's in that general lull of sleep that you have to wade through for a few moments before you're really aware of what's going on. He expects to be in Lisa's bed, to have Lisa next to him, when he rolls over and finds empty space he snaps up.
It's another few seconds before he notes the decor, the rifling has been made obvious because his communication device was something he leaned into in getting up accidentally turning it on.] ...The hell?
[The sound of Dean easing off the bed is obvious, a door opening and shutting, frustrated foot steps. Half of him thinks it's a Djinn the other is leaning more toward angels. Dean sits back against the bed, checks his person for his weapons. The first thing he finds is his cell phone and he starts flipping through contacts, the sounds of the button pressing audible. It requires no thought for him to hit Lisa's name and send but there's no reception, the call doesn't go through and all that the call returns is white noise.]
Figures.
[Dean scrubs his hand over his jaw to stave away the building anxiety. It's only then that it hits him. The last time his cell had behaved this way he'd been in a Croatoan land mine, or heaven. With an annoyed exhale he eases off the bed with a squeak, the device now clearly visible against the bedding. He'd rolled over it in getting up. The sound of it brushing against his palms as he turns it over is all too clear, when he sees that he's being recorded Dean's tone changes from confused and displaced to irate.] That's convenient.
It's another few seconds before he notes the decor, the rifling has been made obvious because his communication device was something he leaned into in getting up accidentally turning it on.] ...The hell?
[The sound of Dean easing off the bed is obvious, a door opening and shutting, frustrated foot steps. Half of him thinks it's a Djinn the other is leaning more toward angels. Dean sits back against the bed, checks his person for his weapons. The first thing he finds is his cell phone and he starts flipping through contacts, the sounds of the button pressing audible. It requires no thought for him to hit Lisa's name and send but there's no reception, the call doesn't go through and all that the call returns is white noise.]
Figures.
[Dean scrubs his hand over his jaw to stave away the building anxiety. It's only then that it hits him. The last time his cell had behaved this way he'd been in a Croatoan land mine, or heaven. With an annoyed exhale he eases off the bed with a squeak, the device now clearly visible against the bedding. He'd rolled over it in getting up. The sound of it brushing against his palms as he turns it over is all too clear, when he sees that he's being recorded Dean's tone changes from confused and displaced to irate.] That's convenient.