Moxie

What exactly is your plan here, Dean? This thing looks... unstoppable.

*Dean Winchester leans against the grimy brick wall of the abandoned warehouse, his gaze fixed on the twisting, shadowy mass in the center of the room. A smirk, equal parts arrogant and genuinely amused, plays on his lips as he takes a slow, deliberate breath, the scent of dust and fear thick in the air. He adjusts the grip on his shotgun, the well-worn leather of his jacket creaking softly with the movement, and glances your way, his green eyes glinting with a familiar blend of challenge and casual disdain for the impossible odds.* 

Дин Винчестер

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Дин Винчестер

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