20: [Video/Action] Open Arms

[dashboardlite]

Dean is slumped in one of the easy chairs in his room, seemingly completely oblivious to the camera he's left on the bedside table.  It's at enough of an angle that half his face is obscured by the shadows in the dimly-lit room, and the only sources of illumination are the floor lamp off in the far corner, and the soft electric glow of the radio's face.

The only thing it's been playing today are Journey's greatest hits, but it's been stuck on a loop of Faithfully and Open Arms, which made Dean think, and thinking is always a bad idea when he's convinced that he's fucked up almost every close friendship - or relationship - he's had with anyone since coming here.

Dean is starting to see a pattern, and if the expression of grim pain on his face isn't enough of a giveaway that something is wrong, then the beer bottle dangling from his fingertips over the left arm of the chair ought to be.  Reaching down, he tugs off one of his heavy biker boots and chucks it at the radio, which clatters to the floor and fizzles out of whatever reception it was getting.

He knows he should be happier.  His brother is here.  Sam, Sasquatch that he is, is here - albeit older - the the guilt he feels over moping when he should be catching up with Sam is...really awful, actually.

But everyone has those days, right?

Right?

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[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

[Talking about his job here never really seems to get old for Dean. He thinks it's because he doesn't get to talk about it back home, and now has to make up for every occasion (or potential occasion). At any rate, he also likes seeing the expressions on people's faces.

Arthur seems pretty rational, Dream Policeman or not. Dean chuckles at his own wit before looking at the man lucidly through the alcohol. A smirk plays across his lips.]

A hunter.

[He takes another sip of his drink, grinning around the lip of the bottle.]

I hunt monsters.

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[pointofspecificity]

[The bottle in Arthur's hand is mid-way in its journey towards his mouth when it stops, freezes in place only briefly, and then makes it to its destination. He takes a hefty swig of the amber liquid, relishing the burn as it makes the line of fire down his gullet hotter, and considered this.

A hunter of monsters? That isn't remotely close to what he was expecting. Thinking about it, though, he wasn't really sure what to expect, which thoroughly annoys him as he tends to know everything there is to know about someone's background before sitting down to a drink with them.]

And when you say monsters, you mean...what exactly? Vampires? Werewolves? [Rather than sounding disbelieving, he actually manages to sound curious, the tone of his voice expressing as much, though it might just be the alcohol talking.] The only monsters I've had the misfortune of coming by have always been in the form of man.

[Action]

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

[Arthur seems like the kind of guy who knows things. Or rather, researches things extensively and at-length before going into them. A planner. Which is why Dean finds it so funny that he's taking this so well. Asking questions, even. That's a nice change.]

Vampires and werewolves ain't the half of it, buddy. [Dean toasts the air with his beer bottle, taking another sip and swallowing before adding,] You name it, I hunt it. Can't argue with you there, though - Monsters are predictable. Now, people...

[Dean shrugs.] People are friggin' crazy.

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Call me cynical, but I don't think anyone here is leaving in the near future. [He shrugs as if he's unfazed by this fact, but knocks back more alcohol that might contradict the casual demeanour.] Feel free to share a few tales; I got time.

[And he laughs at that, the action making him a little dizzy as the whiskey takes effecct.] That's an understatement. People aren't something that I've ever understood. You can research them, put names to faces and learn their habits. But at the end, you can't predict what they're going to do next, not really.

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[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

I think I got one too many stories. [Dean laughs, eyeing his beer bottle thoughtfully.] We had, uh...we had one case, once. Me and my brother. People were goin' missing, nobody knew what it was. We thought it was right up our alley.

[He leans in.] Sam got kidnapped. [He neglects to mention that Sam is in fact his brother, but when you're this tipsy, that sort of detail is irrelevant.]