dudeimbatman | 58th Hunt [Accidental Video]

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58th Hunt [Accidental Video]

[There’s a bump and a mishmash of mostly dark scenes that seem to be a hallway. The person with the device stops walking and the scene is that of an apartment door. The person stumbles and the device tumbles to the floor. Standing in front of an apartment door with his hands shoved in his pockets is Dean Winchester. He’s very clearly drunk, rumpled and has been at it a while. He's also dripping wet as if he might have capsized the boat he took over here a couple of times. He takes a deep breath and pounds on the apartment door]

Hey! Open up! It’s friggin’ Valentines Day and I wanna...shit...I don’t know what the hell I want but open up.

[ooc: Action for Anna

backseatangel Video || Voice open for everyone else]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[She was sitting in the empty apartment, alone and brooding, her mood as dark as the water that had seeped into the City. The combination of Dean's voice through her communicator and through her front door was enough to make her jump. She's on her feet before the first pounds are complete and throwing the door open as his bellows finish.]

What do you think you're doing?

What the hell you think I'm doin'?

[Pro-tip...he has NO clue what he's doing.]

[Anna? is NOT amused.]

You're making a lot of loud noise and proving that excessive alcohol consumption leads to poor decision making.

So now my comin' to see you is a bad decision? You really know how to make a guy feel like shit.

[She stands to the side to allow him in if he likes. If he's going to be yelling, he might as well do it inside the apartment.]

Coming to see me drunk is a bad decision.

[He steps inside because she's got a point. Besides standing in the hallway just makes it easier for her to slam the door on him.]

S'why's that? Sorta figured one of us ought to have the guts to come talk 'bout it. My guts happen to be made of whiskey.

Talk about what, exactly?

[She closes the door behind him softly, not looking at him yet.]

Fuck if I know.

[Like he's going to open with what they should actually talk about. Drunk yes. Someone other than Dean, probably not]

Then leave.

[She's not in a mood to beat around the bush.]

Or say what you've come to say about the state our our relationship.

[That earns her a go to Hell look]

I thought Sam was the Winchester that hooked up with the bitchy women. You know, maybe I was wrong. I thought you were something besides a dick in a condom. I thought you were...fuck what I get for thinking.

Dean... [She's not trying to be mean, or petty, but this isn't the state he should be in for this conversation. But she knows him, and if this is what it's taken for him to try... the least she can do is listen.]

I'm sorry, please, sit down.

[He's pretty sure he wouldn't be having this conversation with her otherwise. Dean doesn't do touchy feely sober--even drunk his idea of touchy feely isn't most people's. He takes her up on her offer though and takes a seat on the couch, rubbing his hands over his face. He keeps his face buried in his hands. It might be easier to talk if he doesn't have to watch her. It still takes him several long seconds to speak]

You know the friggin' problem with caring about people? Shit goes crazy--and shit always goes crazy--and you gotta figure out how the hell to stop caring or how the hell to make everything right. I don't have a damn clue which one is easier to do. They both seem hard as shit right now.

[She moves slowly, silently easing herself into a seat next to him on the couch, leaving enough room between them so he doesn't feel crowded. Not speaking, she simply waits for him to say all of what he needs to say.]

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