Dean winced, because he was not looking forward to heading back out in the unseasonal--and probably magical, what the fuck?--blizzard. He'd ducked inside Avalon when it'd started to rain, and when it'd started to snow he'd ordered a shot of whiskey, because he was not sober enough for snow in August.
"...yeah," he drawled. "About that. You uh...would you mind if I just crash on one of those couches? I promise I won't be any trouble. I just...I'm not sure I can actually make it back."