[ Dean's doing what Dean does - locating a case, working it like a dog, hunting down whatever the hell it is that's causing a problem. Hours spent in the local library point him in the direction of a cabin in the woods (great), so that's where he'd gone. Sam is off Samming somewhere, so he's on his own this time, but what's a little haunting in the grand scheme of the overarching bullshit of apocalypse after apocalypse? Nothing, that's what.
So he's investigating with his own flashlight, gun in hand as he sweeps the house military style, freezing briefly when he hears someone speak and especially when he hears the words Federal Bureau, but it doesn't end with investigation so muscles relax and his finger eases off the trigger. Dean doesn't know if this person is armed, so he steps out from where he'd been in the kitchen to appear in the door, hands up, fingers clearly off the trigger of his 1911 colt. ]
Please God don't be a friggin' Ghostfacer, [ he groans, squinting into the light of the man's light. ] I can't take their bullshit right now.
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So he's investigating with his own flashlight, gun in hand as he sweeps the house military style, freezing briefly when he hears someone speak and especially when he hears the words Federal Bureau, but it doesn't end with investigation so muscles relax and his finger eases off the trigger. Dean doesn't know if this person is armed, so he steps out from where he'd been in the kitchen to appear in the door, hands up, fingers clearly off the trigger of his 1911 colt. ]
Please God don't be a friggin' Ghostfacer, [ he groans, squinting into the light of the man's light. ] I can't take their bullshit right now.