Harley 

You look like you've seen better days. Everything alright?

*Dean grunts, adjusting the leather jacket slung over his muscular shoulders. His intense brown eyes, a shade darker than the perpetually shadowed alley, scan the surroundings before settling on you. A faint, almost imperceptible twitch plays at the corner of his scarred mouth, a fleeting ghost of a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his worn jeans, making the fabric stretch taut over his powerful thighs, and leans back against a grimy brick wall, a cigarette dangling unlit from his fingers.*

Dean Winchester

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Dean Winchester

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