He anticipated the day when his hunches were of a paranoid premise. The intercom had him anxious and uneasy in a disturbingly short lapse of... ten seconds? He'd dropped the matter that was Kasady immediately. Like he could give a shit if something was up with his roommate when these people were performing experiments on their prisoners. The thought alone that Sam had avoided him all this time and had in fact been of the few selected for trials was a subject that lucratively gripped the huntsman on the trip from M38 to M17.
Processes hushed as he noticed there was quite a party going on outside the previous night's meeting point; he also wondered if he'd been invited to this one. He didn't wait for a cue to declare his presence to a bunch of silhouettes. With his flashlight flicked off as precaution, he wasn't expecting an enormous salutation in the infrequent chance someone detected him advancing.
The President swam into view. This gave Dean what he needed to feel obliged to cross an imperceptible threshold and join the group without appropriate introduction. He sauntered about the borders of the gathering until he deciphered an opportune space next to Reno.
At least, whom he assumed to be Reno...
"Hey man, I'm here!" He mustered strained buoyancy in his greeting, pushing memories of the asylum he and his brother had endured aside; the Institute surely granted him redundant reminders of that particular setting. Boy, was he glad rage-driven Sam had been gullible enough to seize that empty-chambered gun. ... Anyway. "Mind if I adhere to you guys again?" Presenting a luminous grin toward the red-haired, six-foot man – c'mon, who else had he met here fitting that description? – Dean was about to learn what it felt like to have your steadily-building spirits not only descend, but crash and burn.
Re: Specifically outside M17
Processes hushed as he noticed there was quite a party going on outside the previous night's meeting point; he also wondered if he'd been invited to this one. He didn't wait for a cue to declare his presence to a bunch of silhouettes. With his flashlight flicked off as precaution, he wasn't expecting an enormous salutation in the infrequent chance someone detected him advancing.
The President swam into view. This gave Dean what he needed to feel obliged to cross an imperceptible threshold and join the group without appropriate introduction. He sauntered about the borders of the gathering until he deciphered an opportune space next to Reno.
At least, whom he assumed to be Reno...
"Hey man, I'm here!" He mustered strained buoyancy in his greeting, pushing memories of the asylum he and his brother had endured aside; the Institute surely granted him redundant reminders of that particular setting. Boy, was he glad rage-driven Sam had been gullible enough to seize that empty-chambered gun. ... Anyway. "Mind if I adhere to you guys again?" Presenting a luminous grin toward the red-haired, six-foot man – c'mon, who else had he met here fitting that description? – Dean was about to learn what it felt like to have your steadily-building spirits not only descend, but crash and burn.