Of course, Dean took her words as some kind of compliment, sliding the corner of his lip into a wry smirk as he gave a short nod. "Hunter, born and raised. My dad, he was a hunter, and between him and the journal he left behind, I learned everything I needed to know." Well, that was sort of the truth, at least. Though, his own tiny story of childhood - which wasn't told any better than the one he told about hers - had a slight ulterior motive, hinted at by the way his eyes fell on that book she had.
He didn't know what it was, but his instincts kept him ever curious, especially now that he knew they were the same kind of people. There was only one reason hunters read books.