Trust Me or Lie to Me

[winchester_lost]

"Oh, hey, can I get a bacon cheeseburger? Extra onions," Dean requested with a smug smile and a single raised eyebrow as the man that had been riding him left. Their attempted 'interrogation' wasn't going well, needless to say. He leaned back in his chair, careless of the fact that one of his hands was handcuffed to the table. Sammy had gotten

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[winchester_lost]

Dean was still trying to size him up, had a name to put to the face. Dean wasn't good like Cal was, but he was still good at reading people. His pretty much flawless ability to walk into someplace and walk out with someone pretty on his arm wasn't just because of his pretty face and that bad-boy air. It was also because he was good at figuring out which girls wanted to go home with someone.

At the mention of the bank there was a twinge of regret. It was still fresh, recent, just a couple weeks gone. Ronald and his Manroids. Dead on the floor as the SWAT team opened fire. Sure, the guy had gone about the whole thing ass-backwards, but Dean couldn't help thinking he should have kept him alive. Maybe if Sammy hadn't decided to go all Mister-Fed-Stick-Up-My-Ass, things would have turned out differently. Or maybe he was simply right that ignorance was safe.

He hadn't had time for the thoughts to run their circuit, let alone to get out a response, before Cal was shot-gunning more questions. Emily. He didn't place the name at first, until Cal got descriptive. Oh. The first time he'd met a shapeshifter. Framed his brother's friend's brother for the murder of his girlfriend, and then stole Dean's face and nearly killed Rebecca. They'd killed it, though, and with the lair and the poor kid's bloodied clothes found, they'd pinned the murder squarely on him.

Another twitch of regret. They were small, flickers of something, but his outward demeanor didn't shift. His full lips didn't waver from that cocky grin, but it was there in the tension around his eyes. Because Rebecca shouldn't have been in that position. He felt bad they hadn't gotten to her sooner, hadn't killed it before it had gotten it's filthy hands on her. Well, his filthy hands on her, technically, but the point still stood. She was a cute girl. They should have been faster. They'd saved her, but still.

Dean has a feeling that this was getting to the other man. He wasn't quite sure why, but, he was clearly bothered by it. Not so much the bank, but that first case. Something in the way that he said Emily. Was it the fact that those had been so much more gruesome, not just murder but torture? He looked at Cal, a slight tilt of his head, trying to figure him out. Dean was enjoying himself, but not the way that Henrickson and the Feds thought. Dean had turned figuring out the people they sent in to interrogate him, to try and drag a confession out of him into an amusing sort of game.

And, hey, it was good practice for poker.

"See, this is the problem with all of you. You talk about being rational, but 'rational' goes right out the window when you run into information that doesn't tell you the story you want it to."

He shook his head, looking a little disgusted with people. And then Dean started pushing at Cal. "I mean, have you even looked at the mess that is my altercations with the law? First, you have a supposed 'bank robbery' where no one tried to take any money and no demands were ever made. Oh, and, tell me, they ever get an ID on the dead chick? Looked exactly like one of the hostages, but Sherry didn't have any identical twin sisters, did she?"

He didn't expect the man to believe him, but he was making a point, and turning things around so that he was the one asking questions was always a good thing. He was being honest. Intent, but honest, not a shred of deception in those steady hazel eyes that were watching Cal with an almost hawk-like intensity. This was poker without the cards. There was an edge to his voice, to his words, but it was the sort of edge borne of frustration at the fact that people simply didn't want to know. Dean was kind of tired of getting tossed behind bars just for being the guy with a rap sheet nearest to the crime scene. And with their line of work, he was always nearest the crime scene.

"Second, there's that whole mess where some cop was trying to string us up for murder. Funny enough, it wasn't me that time either. Then before that I ran into a police officer in Baltimore, and nailed some crazy-ass redneck family that thought Surviving the Game was a great idea and not just a shitty movie."