Dean situated himself beneath her, ready with a shoulder to climb on or a safe (ish) place to fall if she slipped.
"Yeah, but where are the cameras? And craft services? And what genre is this even? Locked in a theatre with a stranger? If they're going for Saw, they're short one little guy on a trike and a shit-ton of weapons." Too many questions with no answers - it was maddening, but pretty much the norm for Dean. In his regular life, he'd just talk it out with his brother, Sam, and eventually, one of them would hit upon something that pulled everything together. So Dean kept babbling.
"Or maybe it's like Survivor." Dean's voice pitched up a bit, sounding excited. "So this is just, y'know, the first challenge to establish our 'types.'" He looked up at her, realized his mistake, and then busied himself looking anywhere other than her ass.
He felt the need to keep the conversation going with something a little better than speculation about their situation, so he picked pointless speculation about other situations. "So who would you be on Survivor?"
no subject
"Yeah, but where are the cameras? And craft services? And what genre is this even? Locked in a theatre with a stranger? If they're going for Saw, they're short one little guy on a trike and a shit-ton of weapons." Too many questions with no answers - it was maddening, but pretty much the norm for Dean. In his regular life, he'd just talk it out with his brother, Sam, and eventually, one of them would hit upon something that pulled everything together. So Dean kept babbling.
"Or maybe it's like Survivor." Dean's voice pitched up a bit, sounding excited. "So this is just, y'know, the first challenge to establish our 'types.'" He looked up at her, realized his mistake, and then busied himself looking anywhere other than her ass.
He felt the need to keep the conversation going with something a little better than speculation about their situation, so he picked pointless speculation about other situations. "So who would you be on Survivor?"