Dean was good looking guy - normally. Normally, however, he didn't have ink all over his shirt, sopping hair, teeth marks on his hand, and an underfed bundle of Germanic exuberance straining to try another chance at his kidney.
The specimen in question momentarily paused in Van's hold, huffing half in suspended rage and half, amazingly, in laughter.
“Rabies is incurable,” Fisher said. “I am inconsolable.”
“You’re unhinged. It was a fucking joke,” Dean said. He had the harried look of someone who’d clearly been repeating himself for a while. “You didn’t have to chase me out of the lab for it. You were - she tried to throw acid on me.”
“It was non-corrosive,” Fisher said. There was a wide scape across her cheek, an accidental souvenir from when Dean tried to shove her off. “Dummkopf.”
“Freakin’ lunatic.”
Fisher grinned at him. There was a pink tinge to her teeth. “Blutige Sau.” The grin widened. “Schlechte Hund!”
Dean’s face darkened. He knew that one. “Get her the hell away from me, Carlyle.”
OOC: Fisher’s insults in order of appearance: blockhead, bloody pig, and, of course, bad dog.