"Yeah, Sam, you said that cause I was going to hell. It wasn't like a crazy premonition of yours." Dean sighed dramatically and finished off his beer, setting the empty bottle down on the desk. Both hands came up to rub briskly at his face, his fingers massaging the bridge of his nose and his temples.
"Explore happiness with Jo?" Someone who had died because of him, and all for nothing, too. "Dude, I'm not really sure that's much of an option, but sure, I'll see what I can do." He didn't want to talk about the past anymore, or dwell too much on Jo. He stood from the chair and stretched his arms out overhead. "Anyway, I think I should probably get to work on that wound of yours. Before your damn arm falls off or something." He joked stupidly and grabbed his empty beer bottle, moving to the door. "I'll show you the rest of the place after I patch you up."