Dean, across from Felix, is sitting very still, watching very closely and listening very intently. He's telling himself to be cool, to not hang too much hope on this, that it'll change just like it has to change as soon as they're back on the Barge. And, honestly, they'll be back on the Barge. Sometimes the Admiral leaves people behind, but not with anything like regularity, and he won't leave Dean behind.

Maybe Felix, with as badly as he doesn't want to be there. Dean doesn't look at that, either.

The laugh twists at something in the hunter's gut, and he realizes he's no good at this not hoping thing. It's not even a choice he gets to make. He just has to pursue it, he can't not.

"This could be better," he says, and tries to make it sound casual, like the natural follow up and not the wedge that it is in his mind. He should lean back, sprawl out, make his body language casual too but he can't do that; Dean stays leaned forward, features still bright but now focused on Felix's lowered eyes, his hands as they disappear, the slope of his shoulders. "It's not perfect, but it's real, and it's... good. It can be really, really good."

Dean draws in a slow breath, keeps his voice even. "I get it."