"Then food it is," he replied, returning her smile with a small one of his own. "Anything in specific that you want?" He stated, gesturing for her to finally follow him out of the alley and someplace that didn't smell like a tomb mixed with a toilet and some dirty laundry for good measure. But with blood. He led her out toward the street, where the Impala was parked along the curb.
"Uhh," he stopped, just before they reached the car. Pulling his jacket off, he handed it to her and nodded toward the passenger side. "Wrap yourself up in it or sit on it. Some way to keep the stuff from getting all over the seat. Dean...well, he'd shit himself if anything screwed with the upholstery."