dudeimbatman | 5th Hunt [Accidental Video] Welcome to my house, buckle up tight

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5th Hunt [Accidental Video] Welcome to my house, buckle up tight

[The communicator shows a thoroughly miserable looking Dean. He's got a glass of whiskey in front of him, his elbows on the bar and he's practically pouting. His mutterings can just barely be heard]

Hot women and I know they're hot but...nothing. The sisters over there? They'd let me take them both home and...this sucks

[He throws back half a glass of whiskey, bumps the communicator and it shuts off.]

[The communicator comes up a while later and Dean is no longer miserable or pouting. In fact he's counting his money, a couple of stacks of violet and a few Indigo chips. There's a table behind him scattered with playing cards and several angry looking guys]

You cheated! [One of the angry men are up and moving toward Dean. He's an average size guy, scruffy and had more than his fair share to drink. Dean laughs and takes a step back toward the pool tables.]

No, you can't play. There's a difference.

You expect me to believe you won all that money from all of us fair and square [He makes a round robin gesture to his friends still sitting at the table]

Pretty much. [Dean starts pointing out people at the table] He does a duck face when he's bluffing. He gets a twitch in his jaw when he's got a good hand. He drums his fingers on the table when he's got nothing and you...[Dean spreads his hands wide] Well you can't play for shit.

[Dodging the guy's right hook isn't even a problem. Dean grabs his arm, smacks him hard with a left jab right on the jaw. The guy goes a little loopy and Dean lets go of his arm to let his own right hook smack the guy in the mouth. Average Joe hits the ground and his friends move up from the table like one entity. The idiot's grin on Dean's face is enough to make a couple of guys back down but that leaves the biggest boy still coming at him. Dean grabs a pool cue, breaks it over the guys head but fails to dodge a punch that makes his head swim. Dean's good at moving forward when he's seeing stars so he does just that, tackling the guy and pushing him into the table. It breaks, cards going everywhere, what's left of the money scattering across the floor. Dean grabs a handful of them, drives his elbow into the guy's diaphragm and then begins really wailing on him. The bouncer drags him off and Dean stops fighting. He's relaxed and still has that idiot's grin on his face when he gets literally tossed out into the dirt. He picks up a couple of violet chips that fell out of his pockets, takes his gun out of his pocket and gets to his feet.]

Easy money my ass

[He's grumbling and counting his money when he notices the camera is on and switches it off]

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[Ok so the way he can't take a punch? That sorta clues Dean into what the hell...something's off here. And yes sometimes Dean kicks puppies]

Jake, right? Rule number one, you don't fuck with my little brother.

[off or not, Hardison is still getting the lecture]

[Hardison's rubbing at his jaw with his left hand and bracing himself to stand with the free one. If he looked confused before, he looks put-out now. He wasn't unused to taking a hit, but not one that hard and that he wasn't expecting. There's a reason he stays in the van.]

Oh yeah! Great, I bet we just all look alike to you!

[This is an easy part for him to play, and one that usually puts people off their guard. He dusts himself off and continues ranting.]

You're just sad, man. My name's not Jake, but thanks for hitting first and asking later. I'mma start a coalition here! The City Coalition Against Dumb White Folk! We gonna advocate the beauty of the Chinese Africans! You ain't heard the last of me. Hong Kong's coming for you!

Don't you dare pull that racist shit on me [Dean keeps walking toward Hardison, giving him a glare] I saw the guy who killed Sam and his face is friggin' burned in my brain and guess what asshole, you're wearing his face.

And Hong Kong? Bring it on. Little Chinese fuckers. I can take 'em.

Oh, yeah you're really not racist. You're a damned saint, really. [Hardison's standing up to Dean, but he's for sure he might get his ass knocked down again.] And I ain't Steve Buscemi in Con Air, so try again, Rambo. Name's Hardison. Har-dis-on. And I ain't killed anyone!

[And the whole saint comment has Dean chuckling] I'm so much cooler than Rambo. [Dean considers Hardison a moment, thinks about Priestly and how everyone seems to think he looks just like Dean then nods and holds his hand out] Sorry for the knee jerk reaction. Must be a City thing. There's a guy here people swear looks just like me. If we find a different bar, I'll buy you a cold beer to put on that jaw.

[Hardison is looking at Dean like he sprouted horns and declared his home as being on another planet. However, a drink? He will not pass up.]

What, you just like, go around hitting people and then offering beer? ...You don't happen to know a guy named Eliot, do you?

[This is Dean thinking about that for a moment while they walk toward another bar. The look? That doesn't bother him. He's used to getting looks lie that]

Yeah. Sometimes. And no, I don't know anyone named Eliot. Why?

Must be a repressed white guy thing, then. I got this...coworker back home. Likes to start fights for no reason. I'm pretty sure he's got anger issues. [Hardison follows Dean's lead easily enough, working out his jaw every so often. Ouch.]

Repressed white guy? I guess we all look alike to you [Dean smirks as they walk into another bar.]

[Hardison laughs, following Dean easily and taking up a seat at the bar.] Man, shut up. I was just trying to run on you, mostly. Not like you didn't deserve it. Punching a dude like that. You lucky you caught me off guard or I woulda stomped you. [HINT: no. he really wouldn't.]

[The smirk on Dean's face makes it clear that he's not buying it btu he doesn't say anything just orders two beers. El Sol please. Guy's gotta get his dream girl where he can]

What's that saying? Don't try to con a conman?

[Hardison takes stock of the unfamiliar label and swigs before nodding and grinning.]

Hell yeah. Though I gotta say, you ain't bad yourself. Gotta give props where it's due. You look like you've run that pool game before, at least.

[Dean has a thing for the girl on the label.]

Yeah, 'least half my income at home came from hustling someone.

[He glances over at Hardison and chuckles]

How'd you get involved in this?

[Hardison can easily see why!]

Career man, then? I feel like we should have business cards. You usually the muscle?

[Ego time! Hey, Dean asked.]

Oh you know. Bored genius youth usually produces one of two things: Bill Gates and really good criminals. And to answer which one I am? I read his email on a regular basis, so.

[Yeah that's Dean's baby...in his dreams]

Since I was a kid. Hell, that'd mean sticking with one name for a while. Yeah, usually. Little brother does the research.

[Eh he doesn't mind. Dean will ego back at him eventually]

Computer geek huh? Sam does all the computer shit.

[Hardison holds out his bottle to clink with Dean's.] Same here, pretty much. Cool, cool, you two team up. You a foster kid too or something?

[Hopefully the night will not devolve into a measuring session?]

Yeah, I specialize in the digital. But I can hold my own in the field, don't mistake. Usually I work with a team, but I can cover any position. [Except the punching, of course.]

[Dean clinks bottles with Hardison, giving him a confused look] Nah. Mom died when I was a little kid but my Dad raised me and Sam.

[We can hope]

Yeah? I just work with Sam but the hustling thing is just to keep us in diner food and my baby in gas.

Oh, man, I'm sorry to hear that.

[Now Hardison is interested.] Your baby?

[Dean shrugs] Thanks. Long time ago. I was four.

[He brightens visibly when Hardison wants to talk about the Impala.]

A 1967 Chevy Impala. She's beautiful.

I got you, yeah.

[Hardison's good with talking shop, he'll be manly and let the dead parent subject lie.]

Still in good condition, really?

[Good man. It's not a subject Dean likes to get into any deeper than the surface]

Yup. Nearly mint. There's a couple of stains in the leather in the back seat I can't get out but other then that, she's perfect. Still got the original cassette player and radio in her.

Nothing like a classic kept in its prime, huh? [He might seem a little down; what with the news about Lucille being...well she's gone, and that's all that matters.]

Wait, cassettes? For real? Dude, it's time to enter this century.

[Dean sort of recognizes the down but it's banished a moment later by a 'what have you been smoking' look]

Dude? Seriously? You don't mess with perfection and my baby is perfection.

[Hardison just laughs at Dean's refusal and nods to placate him.] Okay, okay! Man, you kinda got a temper on you. I was just making an observation. I know some folk like things to stay the same as long as possible.

So other than cheating idiots out of their money, what else you do around here?

Dude! I don't have a temper [Lies. All lies Dean] I just don't like my car being messed with.

[The latter requires a bit of thought on his part. He takes a sip of his beer]

Not much so far. Work on my car. Shoot things down here in the Underground.

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