Dean groans elaborately, but that's all the further he really gets. It's not like he's ever been capable of saying now when someone he loves wants something.
So that's how he ends up seated at a table - stubbornly in the shade, screw sunburns, for real though - and fussing around with the chopsticks they set out, though thankfully at his bewildered look he also scored a fork. It's not that he doesn't notice where Felix's attention is, or that it's nearly unprecedented when he does start talking past more than their casual sniping, it's that he just listens while it happens.
The hunter is sucking the back of his teeth thoughtfully, carefully setting the chopsticks down as if they're some kind of particularly unstable firearm, and reaching for his water instead when he glances up.
A lot of things pretty much make sense once he knows that; why Felix is always cold, why the first thing he craves is fish of all things. Dean doesn't ask questions, at least not at first, especially when Felix tries to dismiss it. Instead: "We have mountains. Two main ranges, one of 'em between here and Kansas. The other shore is colder - the Atlantic - and you have to go North for the really spectacularly ball-freezing weather." Not that the northern states don't get impressively snow-bogged, but that's why he's content to stop there. He doesn't have any interest in driving the Impala where she could drive across the ice almost year round.
"Just two seasons? Winter and not-winter?" He raises an eyebrow, curious, but not to the point where he's willing to spoil the good mood altogether if it starts heading that way.
no subject
So that's how he ends up seated at a table - stubbornly in the shade, screw sunburns, for real though - and fussing around with the chopsticks they set out, though thankfully at his bewildered look he also scored a fork. It's not that he doesn't notice where Felix's attention is, or that it's nearly unprecedented when he does start talking past more than their casual sniping, it's that he just listens while it happens.
The hunter is sucking the back of his teeth thoughtfully, carefully setting the chopsticks down as if they're some kind of particularly unstable firearm, and reaching for his water instead when he glances up.
A lot of things pretty much make sense once he knows that; why Felix is always cold, why the first thing he craves is fish of all things. Dean doesn't ask questions, at least not at first, especially when Felix tries to dismiss it. Instead: "We have mountains. Two main ranges, one of 'em between here and Kansas. The other shore is colder - the Atlantic - and you have to go North for the really spectacularly ball-freezing weather." Not that the northern states don't get impressively snow-bogged, but that's why he's content to stop there. He doesn't have any interest in driving the Impala where she could drive across the ice almost year round.
"Just two seasons? Winter and not-winter?" He raises an eyebrow, curious, but not to the point where he's willing to spoil the good mood altogether if it starts heading that way.