He could hear Dean, puttering away in the kitchen. The deep fryer hissing away, drawers being pulled open, the fridge opening and closing again. And he heard his footsteps, striding back to the war room. "Les créatures les plus fréquente dans les Amériques." Alec knew he had the flawless French accent, acquired for another cover he'd had once upon a time, but he wasn't sure that Dean had expected as much. But he slammed the book shut, and picked it up to show the cover to Dean.
"This is for real? Because I know transgenics who are basically mermaids, created for underwater missions. Another transgenic who reads like a vampire. He was a battle medic, and his blood had sedative properties. And addictive properties in humans, but that's only when they go nuts and feed humans their blood and start a cult." But Alec couldn't begrudge some of them for enjoying their newly-found freedom.
"But that smells great," he added, nodding at the plates. "Thanks." And for once, that was actually sincere. The book hit the table with a hollow thud, and Alec picked up a couple of French fries. "That's your life? Hunting, killing?"