He dumped the flashlight and bowie knife on the desk before going for the bag of salt: it didn't matter if it "looked" safe right now, he wasn't gonna get jumped by a ghost or demon this far. Dean went around the room with the salt, laying down a whole line down that completely enclosed them before he decided he could breathe a little easier. That didn't stop the other things that might be out there, but it was the best he could do and better than nothing.
Dean turned to Sam then. "Yeah. You got enough light?"
They only had flashlights on them - not exactly what he'd have been hoping for, but, again, really the best they could do 'cause he was sure Sam couldn't do this with the nurses watching, or the patients, any of which could be possessed and would recognize the trap for what it was before Sam could finish. Without waiting, Dean emptied out his pockets on the desk, metal clinking against the surface as he set down the forceps, scissors, and skull chisel. The ethanol he put to the side. The hunter shrugged out of his jacket and pulled his shirt over his head, sitting down bare-chested on the chair and steeling himself for this: he already had a feeling this was going to hurt like a bitch, which didn't change anything since he was just gonna have to suck it up and take it.
Dean just hoped Sam knew what he was doing and drew the tattoo right, despite the crap lighting and the tools they had on hand.
Re: [Inside M2 again]
He dumped the flashlight and bowie knife on the desk before going for the bag of salt: it didn't matter if it "looked" safe right now, he wasn't gonna get jumped by a ghost or demon this far. Dean went around the room with the salt, laying down a whole line down that completely enclosed them before he decided he could breathe a little easier. That didn't stop the other things that might be out there, but it was the best he could do and better than nothing.
Dean turned to Sam then. "Yeah. You got enough light?"
They only had flashlights on them - not exactly what he'd have been hoping for, but, again, really the best they could do 'cause he was sure Sam couldn't do this with the nurses watching, or the patients, any of which could be possessed and would recognize the trap for what it was before Sam could finish. Without waiting, Dean emptied out his pockets on the desk, metal clinking against the surface as he set down the forceps, scissors, and skull chisel. The ethanol he put to the side. The hunter shrugged out of his jacket and pulled his shirt over his head, sitting down bare-chested on the chair and steeling himself for this: he already had a feeling this was going to hurt like a bitch, which didn't change anything since he was just gonna have to suck it up and take it.
Dean just hoped Sam knew what he was doing and drew the tattoo right, despite the crap lighting and the tools they had on hand.