Dean was still trying to figure out what exactly he'd be saying to his father to convince the man to let him and Sam stick around. Years of training and adapting had made it so he felt most comfortable with that sort of thought either behind the wheel of the Impala, or sitting at a diner booth, so here he was, in his usual booth at Der Waffle Haus
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Kiffany looked up. "He a cop?"
"Um, no,"
"Then you're payin' for his."
"That's fine, Kiff."
He shot John another nervous grin. "It's good coffee. . . ."
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