[ Spam ]

[Once, the Marquis had asked Dean if he could kill something while inebriated and half naked and strung out on loneliness and desperation. The answer, of course, had been yes. If he had to. Dean can do whatever he has to, he's found, and that's not always a good thing of course, but it's also the truth. Another truth is that this fact is backed up by tried and true, fire-tested, bombproof training and skill.

Dean whirls and by the time he's dropped into his firing stance - confident and comfortable in a way he almost isn't in his skin the rest of the time - his Colt is cocked and ready, aimed at the Marquis' chest. The hunter's eyes narrow, recognizing him immediately once he's no longer just a movement in Dean's peripheral, but it takes him a moment longer to lower the gun.]

Are you trying to get ventilated, or is all of this just too damn boring for you?!