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[weary_head]

Dean waited for the echoed boom of the shotgun to stop bouncing back to him from the trees before he walked forward, picking up the empty shells. Maybe John wouldn't have cared for him wasting powder this way, but the fact was, after the ups and downs of the last month Dean needed the release, and there weren't any bars on the island he could go

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[loaded_wolf]

"Oh, it's you," Angua said to get Dean's attention, a ways behind him. She thought the bangs were thunder at first, some new kind of storm come to wreak havoc on them. But then she was reminded of the night in the boarding house and had come running. She was still catching her breath.

"What the hell are you shooting?"

[weary_head]

Dean turned, eyes a little wide at the anger in her voice.

"Just some empty cans," he said, raining slicking down his neck as he angled his face out of the rain. "I was...gonna give them back?"

[loaded_wolf]

Now that she had determined it was safe to come closer she did, slowly, like a prowl. She hardly noticed the rain, though it plastered her hair down her neck and back.

"Mm, what'd those cans ever do to you?" she asked, wondering the purpose. She hadn't thought Dean would need practice, but maybe it was a skill that got rusty as any other. Even if it did just seem to her a simple aim and trigger pull.

[weary_head]

He held his ground, but with the way she was moving towards him, it was a near thing.

"What?" he asked. "You never wanted to make some noise?"