princeship | Stupid Sexy Demon Hunting Ω Locked to nottheshoe

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Stupid Sexy Demon Hunting Ω Locked to nottheshoe

He blew into town at some ungodly hour of the morning, 'round the time the suits usually began their morning commute into the city. Dawn was beginning to creep into the darkened sky when he pulled up to the rickety old house that had brought him here. As he'd thought, the house looked like something straight out of a scary movie. Only thing missing was the big-breasted blond running across the lawn, really.

It was far too late for anything really otherworldly to be happening -- or too early -- but it wasn't like he couldn't scope out the place while he was waiting. From what he'd gleaned from the different newspapers/paranormal websites, he needed as good a grasp of the layout of the place as he possibly could.

Dean killed the engine and sat for a few moments just staring up at the house. Grisby's house, home of the grisly. Had to give 'em points for creativity, at least, though he wasn't really sure how much solace he could take in the notion that today's youth knew how to rhyme. Over the past year a total of six different murders-slash-suicides had taken place inside the house, each one more gruesome than the last. It had escaped media attention for the longest time until just recently, when one of the claimed victims turned out to be a small boy no older than eight.

Said boy also happened to be the sole heir to a rather prominent big-name corporation in the city, but Dean wasn't one to really sweat the small stuff. The fact of the matter was, a kid was dead. And he was damn sure going to make sure the son of a bitch responsible was going to die for it.

Hands stuffed into his pockets, he approached the house with the casual air of a curious passerby. There weren't nearly enough people on the streets by this point, but the occasional car that breezed by gave him enough light to pick out the tattered lines of police tape crisscrossing the house and the grounds. Pretty clear this place wasn't a frequent tourist spot. He had his suspicions as to what it was that was doing the killing, but until he actually got inside he couldn't really be for sure.

When he got close enough to squint inside the dusty window he paused. Was that... light?

"Son of a bitch."

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Her lips purse a bit, definitely an amused smirk. Cheesy and clueless. This was going to be interesting.

"Not a 'hunter', Though I do deal in the supernatural," She's pushing forward, examining him-- can't be too careful after all-- sizing him up. Ah, now she 'sees' it, magic items, things which did hold a certain amount of spiritual power to them. Not the type of thing she's used to searching for, especially not on someone who was 'normal'. "Parents just got around t'tellin' me about it a few years back though."

She's amazed she manages to keep a straight face when she mentions her parents, she wonders if that's just the mask she's keeping up or if she's really dulled her emotions that much.

"So witches.... what makes y'think we're dealing with-- 'witches'?"

Her tone is light, amused, a little sing song even. There's not a witch for miles, at least none of the ones she was familiar with.

Well... excluding herself of course.

Dean's going to give her a sympathetic look because, hey, not like he hasn't been down that road before. His entire life was practically built around secrets and "family tradition", when he thought about it.

"Uh..." And he's going to try not to be a little smart-ass, here, but witches rub him the wrong way like nothing else. "You did say magic, right? Ain't saying you're wrong or anything, but, lady, witches and magic tend to go hand in hand like the devil and sin. Hell, it's pretty much the exact same thing."

Now that he thought about it, he hadn't really heard anything from Bobby regarding witches in the area. What with all the apocalypse mumbo-jumbo going on lately, you'd think they'd have congregated together and started having massive orgies all over the place while they waited for their lord and savior Prince of Evil to bust in with the lube. Not like they hadn't been wrong before, though.

"What do you think it is, if not witches? Enlighten me."

She snorts, cocking one of her hips.

"Witches ain't th'only thing magical out there. Spirits, creatures, spells, wards, sigils--" The list comes off easy, she doesn't know everything, but she does know the basics, "Alla those let off a magic signature and don't necessarily hafta do with anythin' dealin' with witches."

She'll be coming closer though. Curious to a fault, investigating and squinting her eyes up at him. She wondered just how he had planned to deal with a witch if it came to that, probably not best to test it. Dangerous things always came in surprising packages.

No. No no no, lady, what the heck are you saying? Are you crazy?

Dean's used to putting his foot in his mouth but, mercifully, this time he's doing a pretty damn good job of not looking at her like she's a complete nutso. Magical? That's stretching it. Demonic more like, and Dean's seen enough of that to know not to confuse the two together.

"Magic." He repeats the word again, just to make sure he's heard correctly. "Okay-- hey, far be it from me to knock off someone's childhood, but magic - c'mon, this ain't no Disney movie, here. Magic's only used by one group of people, for one thing, and I can sure as hell tell you most of the time it ain't pretty. Creatures, spirits -- that's evil. That's demonic. That's not magic."

Well, she hadn't known why she was expecting someone outside of the spectrum of wizards to know about all the nuances of magic. Though she notes that he is willing to believe in demons-- but thinks magic is waaay too far fetched an idea to consider.

She just continues to smile and shrugs,"I guess y'must be the expert then, Mr. 'Hunter'."

That tone means she's not buying it. Welp, no chance of dealing with whatever it was for now, and this guy certainly wasn't going to be helping her out any time soon.

She'll just be attempting to slip by you Dean.

Aside from having his ego a little bit ruffled, Dean was pretty content to just let the chick walk on out of here. Knowing his life, though, this probably wouldn't have been the last time they'd run into each other. Funny how fate had a tendency to screw up his plans like that.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa-- Lady," And this is either smug Winchester charm coming out, or maybe Dean was a little more ruffled than he thought. "Try not to sound too sarcastic, huh? I've seen more ghosts than kids do in their nightmares. Hell, more horrors than a Halloween fun house. Trust me. This ain't no picnic."

And his stomach decides at that moment to jump at the word picnic, and rumbles rather aggressively from under his flannel shirt. Never one so easily embarrassed - awkward, now that was something else - Dean smiles crookedly and jerks a head in the direction of his car.

"If that ain't convincing enough, I got a few things I could tell you over breakfast. Two birds with one stone, and all."

She stopped in her tracks, turning back to give Dean a bit of a look. This could go so many ways. She shouldn't accept his offer, she should just walk away now. Instead she rolls back on to her heels and pivots to face him.

"Y'make it a habit t'not even give a girl your name before y'try t'take her out for--" Air quotes here " 'breakfast' to 'tell' 'em somethin'?"

Her grin just cocks up more.

"Gimmie a name, and pay my tab and I'll think about it."

Really. She didn't have any money on her. He'd have to pay.

"Dean." The crooked smile only spreads. If he was ruffled before, he certainly didn't look like it. "Don't worry, I'll take care of it. Kinda against the Code to let a chick pay for breakfast."

The floorboards creak under his weight when he moves for the door, stopping just short to turn and make sure she hasn't evaporated or something. Wouldn't go over so well if it turned out she'd been the ghoul all along, and all.

"Pancakes good? Think I saw an IHOP up the road."

Yep. Still there. She gives a shrug of her shoulders and a smirk.

"Sure, pancakes're good for me."

She passes by him and pushes open the door, Athena stays close under her feet, shooting Dean a glare.

"Just don't try any funny business, Dean. I won't hesitate t'start screamin'."

Among. Other things.

Were cats always supposed to look like that? He'd never had a pet cause pets and beasties don't really work so well together. He had enough on his plate without having to mop Fido off the floor, and he was damn sure Sammy didn't have the heart to be able to deal with that.

"Good." Dean shrugs off the glare and trails along after Nike. "Funny, girls don't usually say that till after I take 'em out to dinner."

"Mmmm, really?" Her voice lulls in the air as she sashayed her way over to his car. "Cause usually guys ask for a girls name before gettin' 'em pancakes."

Try to get out of this one smooth talker.

"Before, after. You're still getting pancakes, aren'tcha?" Guess she wasn't a car person. Dean'd be lying if he said he wasn't expecting her to make some kind of comment about his sexy girl, but whatever. Pancakes first, more Winchester charm later.

Nike doesn't know jack shit about cars, Dean. It looks big enough to fit her and the cat and that's all she'll notice. She hasn't even been in a proper car for a while.

"Well then how'll y'know what t'scream out later?"

Oh there's a dangerous smirk as she ducks into the car.

Okay, that statement is enough for him to momentarily forget about the fact that there's a curb under his foot, and so Dean will stumble like a graceful elephant against his car with mouth agape.

Well. That was unexpected.

"Y--" Probably not a good idea to speak right now Dean. So he'll just give her this crooked little smirk as he's slipping himself in beside her. "Are you always this friendly, or is it just me?"

She leans back in the car-- huh, comfy. First soft place to lay she's had in a while. She glances at him out the corner of her eye, smirk tugging at her lips. She considers her answer for a moment--

"T'be honest, y'just looked easy t'fuck with." A shrug of her shoulders. Take that as you will, Dean.

"Lady, you don't know the half of it." And the implications can go either way with that one, but Dean's too busy starting up the engine to really clarify it for her. The returned smirk is probably all she needs, and in the next few moments they're zooming off toward the nearest pancake place.

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Stupid Sexy Demon Hunting Ω Locked to nottheshoe

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