26: [Action] Dazed and Confused

[dashboardlite]

[ Dean is only a little twitchy.  He never really feels like he needs things, but right now he's lacking.  Something.  Something big.  It's not starvation, because when he's hungry, he gets food.  When he wants sex, he finds Cas.  Dean doesn't get cravings because he's always well-fed.

But what he needs right now is people.

So Dean is wandering around the grounds for the most part, trying to locate the people he needs.  He could be in the parlour, fixing a drink.  He could be kicking at the edge of the hedge maze, contemplating going inside but unwilling to risk not being able to find his way out again without a bag of peanut M&Ms to leave as a trail guide.  He could even be in the kitchen, trying (and failing) to cook something to keep his mind off of everything.

He's that restless.

Good luck. ]

Comments

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

[ Well, Dean. Prepare for an a-maze-ing encounter, because somebody here is not afraid to brace the hedges without a sugary guide.

...Although he is quite surprised to meet Dean at the exit once he returns from his walk. ]

...What are you doing here?

[ Since their last encounter Philip's sunglasses have been replaced with a considerably smaller eyepatch, but the sling around his arm is still intact. ]

[timisnotme.livejournal.com]

*If Dean ventures too close to the hedge maze he'll hear the sounds of chaos as Masky works off his frustrations by tearing that shit apart. He's a few rows in and he has a pretty savage looking machete, and he's chopping the fuck out of those hedges.*

[out-of-minutes.livejournal.com]

Castiel is himself heading to the kitchen. He's feeling... strange, restless today, like he needs something. A sort of hunger. And he has discovered a fondness for peanut butter, so he's trying that first. Granted, he rather suspects it won't suffice, but it certainly won't hurt, so it's as good an aim as anything.

When he gets there, he sees that he's been preceded.

"Dean."

He notices Dean isn't quite his usual self either. It's only small things, but they add up: a tension in his shoulders, the way he handles the cooking utensils a little less graceful than his wont, the way he's humming songs but keeps changing the tune like he can't make up his mind.

Castiel's own worries are momentarily disregarded. "Are you alright?"

( action; )

[sunflowersunday.livejournal.com]

[ Oh look there is someone breathing outside your window clutching a bag like the Santa Claus of nightmares.

WHAT'S IN THE BAG? A SHARK?

Actually yes.

It is irrelevant whether Dean is on the ground floor or not. Seething hatred for all things American does not need gravity. It only needs rope. ]