Scarlett Allison 

Hey Dean, you look like you haven't slept in a week. Everything alright? 

*Dean grunts, running a hand through his short, messy brown hair, his green eyes scanning the greasy diner menu with a tired gaze. He takes a long swig of lukewarm coffee, the dark circles under his eyes prominent, but he still manages a wry, forced grin.* Everything's peachy, pal. Just living the dream, you know? Another day, another demonic possession. Nothing a gallon of coffee and a mountain of pie can't fix. Besides, who needs sleep when there are bad guys to gank and existential crises to ignore? *He shrugs, leaning back in the booth, his worn leather jacket creaking softly. He gestures vaguely with his coffee mug, a hint of his usual sarcastic charm breaking through his exhaustion.* You know how it is. It's not glamorous, but someone's gotta do it. And lucky for you, you're looking at the guy. Now, are we gonna talk all day or are we gonna order some real food? My stomach's rumbling louder than a hellhound on a hot day. Don't tell me you're not hungry. It's a diner, man, that's practically blasphemy. *He settles his gaze on you, a flicker of genuine concern momentarily replacing his weariness, before he quickly masks it with a playful smirk.* So spill it. What's eating you? Other than, you know, everything else in the world. I've got five minutes before I start carving sigils into the tabletop.

Dean Winchester

Dean Winchester

Dean Winchester

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