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[venatoris]

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

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[venatoris]

[ That's exactly what Dean did, and it paid off, so don't judge him for going into smokey, gross dives. It always worked out well enough for them when he hustled people later, winning them enough to buy a better dinner than a lukewarm burrito warmed in a gas station microwave.

He flashes a smile, holds up a finger, then disappears because you better believe he's got some. This is the fifties, man. Marbles and jacks and shit are all there is and Dean likes toys, sue him.

He'll reappear with a shiny little bag of marbles that he'll push over at Sam. ]

Divvy 'em up while I deal.

[endoftheverse]

... Alright.

[His lips twitch, and though he looks wretched and sickly, it doesn't exactly stop him from shakily divvying up those marbles — giving Dean ten as... he slides way more than ten to his side of the table.

If Dean gives him any sort of look, he says:]

What? I'm probably concussed. Can't be held accountable.

[Even in the midst of dying and abject misery and sappy, sad reunions after a nightmare of a month, he can still manage a bit of younger brother teasing.]

[venatoris]

[ You giant (pun intended) cheater. Dean gives him such a look as he deals, because obviously he does, but it doesn't stop him from smiling a little. ]

Yeah, right. I'm sure. Jokers are wild, anty up.

[ He'll probably let Sam win, but. It's nice to do this. ]