So today, unaware of the terrible, terrible things in store, Dean is strolling down the street. This is one of the rare days that he doesn't feel like driving, which is both a bad thing and a good thing. Good, because he's getting exercise, which in turn lets off all the extra energy he has that was originally devoted to hunting. Bad, because he
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"Jesus, don't scare me like that!" Dean complains, rubbing the back of his neck, slightly embarrassed.
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... Yeah, Dean's going to blink a few times, because that's not what he was going to say. Or what he wanted to say, anyway.
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The look here, though, would at least hint that he's not anymore. Once you get past the Cas brand of why am I saying this? on his face, anyway.
"And your sense of humour is... difficult at best." -- Oh God, just strike him down right here and now.
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Uncomfortable cough. Then:
"... Hey, my sense of humor is not difficult. What does that even mean?"
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