"Dude, you'd be surprised at how intense it can get hunting the supernatural. But, this place was finished being built in 1935, and it used to be the headquarters of a secret society called the Men of Letters. I have no clue what half of this shit does, and most of it we've never even used, but it's still cool to have." When Alec didn't even question the use of pen and paper to write down his number, it left Dean surprised that he hadn't called him a nerd, old-fashioned, or something else along those lines.
Okay, definitely not a shifter, but he was still unsure about the demon part. The bunker had been warded against demons and other unsavory supernatural beings but over the past few years, it had deteriorated, and he wasn't even sure if it worked anymore. He sat down in his chair and took the pad from Alec. Dean pulled out his phone and quickly typed the number into his contact list.
"Does that mean you're not used to being on your own, then?" His response was overly confident, much like himself, when he wanted to get someone off his back about something. "I'm sure you're capable of taking care of yourself, but this place is unusual, and it seems like where you came from is maybe...a harsher reality? I dunno."