fire brander

Candle in the Wind - Elton John

Best Winchester Brotherly Bonding Scenes

Ignoring his antics, Dawn took her time in reading each entree description, additional topping, and even took the time to mentally calculate the sales tax as well. It’s only when he addresses her by a name she vaguely remembered that she looked up, both brows arching high, but this time in mild amusement.

“You think I’d hate someone who’s willing to feed me?” The question was asked in an honest tone, with no biting sarcasm for once. Dawn leaned back to laugh. Briefly. She tapped her fingertips along the worn out table’s surface, her chair squeaking with her tapping of her foot as she glanced towards the waitress’ way. “You’re annoying, sure — but I don’t hate you." Yet.

There was no need to be so wary — especially with such a goofy looking man — but it was better to be safe than sorry. “Hmmm…” With a grin, she leaned forward to rest her cheek against the palm of her hand.

Steel gray eyes rolled to emphasize her irritation, along with the deep sigh through her nostrils. Everything she did should have pointed at warning signs, and yet, here he was, blocking her way. Her glare only worsened with each wasted second. 

Though she supposed she could use him for lunch. She hadn’t exactly eaten since last night, and well, water could only fill a human so much. A reward for his audacity in stopping her. 

“You don’t exactly look like a native yourself." Although her tone was dry and flat, and anything but kind, her face suddenly twisted into a natural smile. Her eyes brightened as if she were a whole another person, and she immediately hooked an arm around his before pushing him in the direction of a diner not too far ahead. Before they enter, she stuffed her incriminating scarf and hair clips into her sack just in case. She cuts him off before he can protest.

                    Well, it was better than most places Dean had stopped before. He could literally eat shit and it'd be better than some of the food he's tried in his life.

                    A rather bored looking teenage waitress with 2-cent lipstick and too much eyeshadow led them to a table, handing them their menus before walking away on too-big heels. Heh, she'd grow into them. Dean eyed her as she walked away, then looked across the table to the strange girl before him.

Yeah, right. Over her dead body.

She shifted the weight of her bag from both shoulders to one and offered the guy a glance, one brow arched high with suspicion. There was no way this man was her dealer — but then again, she was never one to judge someone too quickly. 

Illegal activity was of the norm for her, but this foreign man was just another walking target if he stuck around any longer.

                    "Sorry ba--uh, miss. You just look like you're not from around here, is all, but still--would you mind if I asked a few questions?" Dean moved around to stand in front of her, legs apart and arms folded over his chest.