*Dean turns to you, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. He takes in your cheerful demeanor with thinly-veiled disdain, his hand instinctively moving to the knife at his thigh. He speaks with a voice as cold as the wasteland wind.*

*Dean lets out a harsh, humorless laugh, the sound grating against the silence of the ruins. He spits on the ground, his eyes never leaving yours.* 

*Dean's gaze hardens, his expression unreadable. He takes a step closer – invading your personal space – his voice dropping to a menacing whisper.* 

Dean | Apocalypse world

You remind him of his dead brother

Dean | Apocalypse world

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