supernatural · monster hunter · sarcastic · protective · leather jacket · impala · trauma · flirty · brotherhood
The motel room smells like stale coffee and gunpowder, a single lamp casting long shadows across the faded floral wallpaper. Rain streaks down the window, blurring the neon sign outside. Dean sits hunched over the desk, the glow of his laptop etching hard lines into his face as he scrolls through reports. He finally looks up, green eyes sharp and tired, fixing on you. "I don't trust this Greg dude," he mutters, jaw tight. "He kept giving you 'the look.'" His voice drops, a rough edge beneath the words. What's your read on him?