Now that he was actually slowly getting warmer, he could feel some feeling returning to his arms and legs. Dean maneuvered himself clumsily so that his back was against the wall, legs folded Indian-style as he clutched the blankets more tightly around him. He still felt sleepy, but it wasn't the same as before, where it felt heavy, pressing in on him and he'd had the feeling in the back of his mind that if he'd fallen asleep then, he wasn't gonna wake up. Still was hard not to nod off right in the middle of the conversation. Even as he listened to Ron, eyebrow raising almost skeptically, he told himself that he owed the guy 'cause of tonight.
There would be a limit to how big a favor Ron could call in, but so long as it didn't require killing people or messing with any black magic crap, Dean had his back.
Even if he had no idea what he was going on about with Time Gates. Warped sense of humor? He could get. Sounded like a Trickster, especially with the humor deal and being able to just pluck people from anywhere and mess around with him. Then again, Joe Normals like Ron shouldn't even know about them, which got him wondering. Time Gate sounded like something out of a bad sci-fi movie, but it wasn't out of the realm of possibility to lose time or gain it. This was more Sammy's area, what with being a huge geek, in Dean's opinion. But even Dean knew there were accounts of people claiming they were from the past or present...although they were usually quickly proven to be hoaxes, it wasn't like this was entirely outta the blue. Dean chewed this over, watching Ron out from under half-closed eyes, seeming to be on the verge of konking out for the night.
"Pretty sure she didn't have wings or a tail," he finally said. "Then again, wasn't like I got a good look at her, she was usin' the fog as cover."
Ron sounded surprisingly unconcerned about the idea of a girl who might have a tail and/or wings. Dean had run into his fair share of supernatural crap, but there wasn't a lot of human-looking, real monsters out there with wings he could recall, except for the obvious. Angels. But the only angels he'd ever seen where the crappy plastic ones you busted out for Christmas, and, no disrespect for Sammy, but far as he was concerned, angels were just as much a hoax as Bigfoot, give or take a few thousand years. You wanted to pray to the imaginary, than go for it, if it helped you get through the day, whatever. As for tails...that did stump Dean. Werecat? Werewolves didn't have tails though, so why would werecats? If Ron had been a witness to some kinda weird creature, he was taking it way better than any civvie in their right mind should be. Dean was honestly starting to doubt if he was just a normal guy - he was starting to come across as one of the most balanced hunters he'd ever run into and that was saying something. You didn't get into this gig 'cause you were balanced.
Dean actually smiled, although it was a tired, somewhat feeble ghost of his usual grin, face still wan and bloodless. "Anytime, Ron. I know this ain't gonna mean much yet, but during the night, watch out for the rec field and the Sun Room," he paused, debating how much to admit. He couldn't just tell him to be careful. With ghosts, you either came prepared or you were dead meat. Maybe it was just recovering from that witch's cold spell crap, but Dean found that at the moment, he was looser about what he'd give away. "Word of advice and this's probably gonna sound all kinds of crazy, but if I were you, I'd get some salt. Keep it on you. And find some iron, it'll be your best defense if you go through the Sun Room."
If Ron needed salt, he could spot him. Least he could do was cough up some spare salt for the guy who just saved his ass from a potentially early trip downstairs.
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There would be a limit to how big a favor Ron could call in, but so long as it didn't require killing people or messing with any black magic crap, Dean had his back.
Even if he had no idea what he was going on about with Time Gates. Warped sense of humor? He could get. Sounded like a Trickster, especially with the humor deal and being able to just pluck people from anywhere and mess around with him. Then again, Joe Normals like Ron shouldn't even know about them, which got him wondering. Time Gate sounded like something out of a bad sci-fi movie, but it wasn't out of the realm of possibility to lose time or gain it. This was more Sammy's area, what with being a huge geek, in Dean's opinion. But even Dean knew there were accounts of people claiming they were from the past or present...although they were usually quickly proven to be hoaxes, it wasn't like this was entirely outta the blue. Dean chewed this over, watching Ron out from under half-closed eyes, seeming to be on the verge of konking out for the night.
"Pretty sure she didn't have wings or a tail," he finally said. "Then again, wasn't like I got a good look at her, she was usin' the fog as cover."
Ron sounded surprisingly unconcerned about the idea of a girl who might have a tail and/or wings. Dean had run into his fair share of supernatural crap, but there wasn't a lot of human-looking, real monsters out there with wings he could recall, except for the obvious. Angels. But the only angels he'd ever seen where the crappy plastic ones you busted out for Christmas, and, no disrespect for Sammy, but far as he was concerned, angels were just as much a hoax as Bigfoot, give or take a few thousand years. You wanted to pray to the imaginary, than go for it, if it helped you get through the day, whatever. As for tails...that did stump Dean. Werecat? Werewolves didn't have tails though, so why would werecats? If Ron had been a witness to some kinda weird creature, he was taking it way better than any civvie in their right mind should be. Dean was honestly starting to doubt if he was just a normal guy - he was starting to come across as one of the most balanced hunters he'd ever run into and that was saying something. You didn't get into this gig 'cause you were balanced.
Dean actually smiled, although it was a tired, somewhat feeble ghost of his usual grin, face still wan and bloodless. "Anytime, Ron. I know this ain't gonna mean much yet, but during the night, watch out for the rec field and the Sun Room," he paused, debating how much to admit. He couldn't just tell him to be careful. With ghosts, you either came prepared or you were dead meat. Maybe it was just recovering from that witch's cold spell crap, but Dean found that at the moment, he was looser about what he'd give away. "Word of advice and this's probably gonna sound all kinds of crazy, but if I were you, I'd get some salt. Keep it on you. And find some iron, it'll be your best defense if you go through the Sun Room."
If Ron needed salt, he could spot him. Least he could do was cough up some spare salt for the guy who just saved his ass from a potentially early trip downstairs.