Dean might had looked harmless but he was loaded up. Years of having to expect the unexpected and training from his father had Dean always carrying weapons. That and he just didn't feel comfortable without one.
The Colt was at his back, tucked in his pants. His other pearl handle Colt was in a pocket in the leather jacket he was wearing, which looked like it had seen better days. A knife was in the other pocket and he also had one tucked in his boot.
"Just new here huh?" He knew the feeling but that wasn't what had him so disturbed. He was already see true faces. Demons. "Well how about we fix that," though temporary as it may be, hell hounds were going to get him soon enough, "Dean Winchester," he extended his hand.