Those large observant eyes instantly avert, suddenly more interested in the night-darkened pavement and non-existent vampire than meeting that smug, green gaze inspection. "Yeah, me too," Jo remarks but a pensive note– of what, disappointment— tinted her otherwise nonchalant words. Nearly spoiling the overall blasé affect. Couldn’t kid herself, even back then, Jo knew he wouldn’t call so it wasn’t all that surprising, but still, she had held out hope until the hope like time bled out. "Didn’t except I’d wait by the phone forever..." she smirked.
With a calm and steady hand, she continued to pour granting a few moment reprieve for Dean to brace himself again, until the water ran smooth and clean over the raw flesh; retrieving a handkerchief from her back jean pocket, soft hands worked the cloth around his neck, folding and securing the makeshift tourniquet oblong over the wound before gazed appreciatively at her handiwork. How many times had she done this in the last few months that would make something such as wound preparation and field triage had become second nature as wiping down a barstool?
Suddenly self-conscious lingering hands upon his chest, the huntress stepped back and automatically wiped her hands off on the front of her jeans- a futile gesture as the dusted vampire had left a fine layer ash across them both. A fine parting gift...
What was that supposed to mean? Her eyes flashed to his, "Why would I be with Ellen?" A prickled suspicion lurking in their narrowing depths, the same spiky look Dean had often seen in the mirror many a morning.