013: [Location: Central, Kaylee's Ranch // Visual] Come Sail Away

[fudgingkillyou.livejournal.com]

In the middle of the Central district, on the edge of Kaylee Frye's Ranch, is a familiar '67 Chevy Impala. And sitting on the hood of that familiar '67 Chevy Impala is a familiar face, relaxing and basking in the sun. The admittedly fake sun, but hell, Dean's not complaining. He's got a cooler full of various alcoholic beverages sitting on the ground next to his car, a basket of fruit sitting next to him on the hood, and the casette he's got playing in his car's set to various classic rock songs.

All in all, a perfect setting for hanging out.

His tablet's switched on to visual without his realizing, so people watching will be able to see part of his face, the beer bottle in his hand, and the open sky above him. Occasionally he sings along with the song in the background, though it's usually low and under his breath. He's not exactly craving company, but hell, he wouldn't mind it.

[any and all are welcome. C'mon. Even if you don't know him!]

Comments

[oldoldghost.livejournal.com]

"Don't scratch, it'll only make it itch more" Brigitta mutters absently, pausing to make a faintly horrified face at what she's just said, when did she start sounding like Kirilli? This is a quite horrifying development.

Luckily the booze should take away from the embarrassment, she leans down to grab a bottle and is already taking a swig from it when she comes up again, there is no point in delaying when it comes to consuming alcoholic products "true, they can summon all sorts of weapons, it's quite fun actually."

[fudgingkillyou.livejournal.com]

That makes Dean pause, and look over at her, raising an eyebrow. Not that Dean would know personally, but he knows that's bordering on motherly. Half-grinning, Dean makes a show of itching his arm once more before stuffing his free hand in his pocket.

"Yes, mother." He jokes, before taking a drink from his own beer.

"I was gonna ask you if you've ever tried out a bazooka, but you're more of a sword chick, aren't you?"

[oldoldghost.livejournal.com]

Ignoring the faint sensation of sadness that threatens to wash over her at the mention of being a mother (really, what kind of person would she be if she froze up at every word mildly related to traumatic things?), Brigitta takes another drink from her beer, smirking the moment that she lowers the bottle.

"Hey, I helped raise around half of my siblings" she chuckles "old habits are hard to break."

...Though her idea of raising children was only a little telling them to stop scratching random things and a lot of encouraging them to be as disobedient as possible, Brigitta was a fun adoptive mother.

"...Yes, but I'm interested" she admits, glancing across at him with a raised eyebrow "aren't they the rather big guns?"