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Dean "Matlock-Mulder-Batman" Winchester (sonovabitch) wrote in wariscoming,

Dean hadn't recognized the voice, but even before he looked up he knew that something was wrong. Maybe it was from the way that the air just shifted. However, he was thinking oh, shit long before he saw who it was. Just his fucking luck.

Of course, Dean knew how screwed he was. Dean'd been screwed before in most variations of the word. That didn't mean he would show fear or not be an ass about it. He was Dean Winchester after all. He was cocky til Death. Except, you know, when being shredded by hell dogs. In cases like that, it was a few moments til Death. "Do I look like Dr. Phil to you?" He asked, turning his attention away from her and back to his keys, as if he fully intended to get away from this. "I said all I had to say about your badly permed abnormally shaped head. If you want to talk to some people about fixing that, the hairdressers down the street. The plastic surgeon is down town and a psychiatrist office is a few blocks to your right. Go wild."