Dean had a feeling he wouldn't connect. Demons weren't all that hip to being hit, not even the ones that liked the pain if the hit was meant to damage more than give a thrill. It was all about survival, wasn't it? So, the caught wrist wasn't too surprising, and he was about to uncap the flask with his free hand and give the demon a face full of pain, only it didn't quite make it. He got the cap off, but...
The guy started hissing. Like..a snake. Which made sense if the bastard wasn't lying like the demon he was. But, Dean didn't know many talking snakes, and it wasn't like he was that Harry Potter kid, whom Dean had no knowledge, honestly.
"Yeah, because they just give out the meatsuits when you're comin' upstairs..." Any further quips were silenced by the tongue. What sort of freak was this? Yeah, demons got up to some really crazy cruel shit topside, but this was something else completely. Dean was going to have to see about trying to summon a certain angel later; this had Trickster written all over it, even if the dick was dead.
Dean's arm hovered for a moment before it dropped. He was a little thrown, especially when the damn thing patted his shoulder and did that thing with the tongue...
"This isn't some asshole move by Gabriel, is it? Or some other angel with a penchant for fuckin' reality?" Yeah, he'd say "penchant," and he did look a little off balance, not scared just a little lost...again.