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[venatoris]

This is Dean Winchester. If this is an emergency, leave a message.

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[kingoftherats]

[Charlie's expression slides into something pained. He really hadn't thought much about the kid — whoever the fuck she actually was. To him, this had all been so fake for the longest time, he hadn't... even entertained the backstory of this tragic little spit of land. If anything, he just thought it was all in his head; maybe it is, too; maybe it's all just him making shit up, high as fuck and sleeping restlessly.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he shakes his head, and then gives a bleary look at Dean's jacket pocket. He looks a little defeated, his shoulders slumping, his nose red and raw from the abuse.]

You're not gonna give that back, are you?

C'mon, man, nobody even overdoses to death forever here.

[venatoris]

No, I'm not. I already saw my brother die here, you don't get to do that to me.

[ Because Dean's already been through this shit, and he's not keen on seeing anyone else do it again anytime soon. Acquaintance, friends, whatever the hell he and Charlie are -- Dean's not gonna give him fucking paint thinner so he can OD. ]

What I am gonna do is make you something bland to eat, and you're going to spend the night on that couch where I can keep an eye on you. You hear me?

[kingoftherats]

[He frowns at that, because it seems like a lot of people die around here. Not him, though. He's pretty indestructible — as long as he's not choking down poisonous eggs, anyway. But the addiction-born frustration that hits him is stronger than the sympathy he should have, and he huffs in annoyance, folding his arms, hands shoved under his armpits because he's suddenly feeling cold and hot and — ]

Fuck you, dude. That's some real bullshit. That's mine. I didn't steal your moonshine out of your hands, you asshole alcoholic. [But Charlie only bites back (literally) at touch, and Dean isn't touching him, not right now, so he just grits his teeth and scrubs his nose and stumbles a little, slurring his words as much as his thoughts.] The fuck does bland mean, anyway? Buh-laaand. Sounds like some bullshit Owen would say, that British bastard.