[ Dean supposes that the slow decline into serious conversation is only inevitable, and he's right in that it follows Cas setting his glass off to the side with a certain amount of finality. He brought this upon himself after all, practically asked for it, and now he has to up and figure out what to say in reply. Which doesn't take terribly long, even as Dean's gaze slips down towards the bed in front of him, measuring his words almost too carefully. ]
It's a mutual dislike.
[ But the thing is, Dean wouldn't be happy with anyone else. He'd throw a silent fit no matter who he was stuck with, no matter how kind and honest and good they were, it wouldn't mean a single thing. ]
no subject
It's a mutual dislike.
[ But the thing is, Dean wouldn't be happy with anyone else. He'd throw a silent fit no matter who he was stuck with, no matter how kind and honest and good they were, it wouldn't mean a single thing. ]