A walk, Dean could use a walk. At least that's what he kept telling himself and continued to tell himself after he left the boarding house. He could explore for a bit, scope out his surroundings for the eleven millionth time, but nothing ever changed.
Except... crochety old dude sitting on a bench. He raised a brow.
"At least a month," he answered. "Get used to it... you're not goin' anywhere. That bus ain't comin' back. And for a guy that has to use a cane you don't want the GOOD muscles to lock up or something."
Except... crochety old dude sitting on a bench. He raised a brow.
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