"Damn straight it ain' Kansas," Dean had just stepped out of the coffee shop with Dinah's favorite blend in hand. He'd also pulled his own Colt when he realized a weapon was loose. It took him a few more moments after that to realize he was looking at some guy with gills and a serious case of the fish mouth.
"What the fuck?" He didn't drop the coffee, but he considered it. Instead, he just stared. Instinct said shoot and check the remains later, but his time here had taught him to wait; fighting instinct wasn't always a bad idea. His eyes narrowed.
"What godling beat you with the fugly stick?" See? He was trying. Of course, he hadn't lowered his weapon, and he was white knuckling the hell out of the bag of freshly roasted coffee beans.
"You better not be a fucking fairy." He didn't care how it sounded. He was going to start shooting if whatever he was staring at had an inkling of fairy to it.